


some untutored youth

by Emeraldwoman



Series: false subtleties [2]
Category: Alias (Comics), Angela (Marvel Comics), Loki: Agent of Asgard, Thor (Comics)
Genre: Case Fic, Crack, Fox!Loki, Gen, Just Friends, Lady Loki, Unicorn!Loki, he can be anything as long as it's really cool Verity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-06-27 07:02:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15680388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emeraldwoman/pseuds/Emeraldwoman
Summary: Loki is accused of crimes! Which, this time, he didn't commit. Good thing his best (only???) friend Verity is a human lie detector, and not at all grumpy about being taken to Vanaheim to look at gross dead bodies.





	1. Chapter One: Images Version

**Author's Note:**

> FOR SOME REASON, we're finding it impossible to add both authors, so: as with "I do believe him, though I know he lies", Emeraldwoman and Mari are co-authors. And nerds.
> 
> This fic includes text messages integral to the narrative. Chapter one contains embedded images of the messages. Chapter two is text-only. The content is the same. Chapter three will be the actual second chapter of the story with embedded images, and chapter four will be the actual second chapter, text-only.

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/163559337@N08/42217528370/in/dateposted-public/)

“What about my homework, though?” Verity wondered aloud. She was taking her courses online, so she wasn’t on the hook for attendance, but if this whole thing was going to keep her out of town for more than a day or two she was going to need to do some reading at the very least. She thumped Loki on the shoulder and raised her voice a little. “Hey, do you guys get wifi up here?”

Loki shrugged, which was an impressive thing to see - and feel - on a unicorn. “We’ll figure it out. You’re acing the class anyway. I’m sure you can miss a couple of assignments. And you don’t need to shout. My ears are enormous right now.”

“Just because I _can_ miss assignments doesn’t mean I want to.” Verity poked one of his ears. It twitched. Her best friend was a unicorn, and she was riding on his back. On another planet. “This is so weird.”

“I promise, it could be much, much weirder.”

True.

Loki slowed to a walk, then stopped, and showily bent his - elbows? Front knees? The leg bendy parts on the front end - which probably would have allowed Verity to slide gracefully to the ground if she had any experience riding horses. But she didn’t, and her legs and butt were basically numb, so she just fell off sideways. At least Vanaheim had very cushy turf.

“That was amazing,” Loki said, laughing. She stood up, human-ish again, and pulled her phone out of her pocket. “Don’t move, I want to capture this moment.”

Verity saluted her with two middle fingers. “Next time I’m going to put a saddle on you. Help me up.”

Loki blew a raspberry at her and took the picture, then grabbed Verity’s wrists and hauled her to her feet. She wrinkled her nose. “Now _you’re_ the one who smells like horse.”

“Not my fault, sweaty-flanks. And it’s not like I have a change of clothes, so…”

Loki clapped her hands together, grinning. “Yes! Perfect! A makeover. Hold still.”

“What? Wait!”

But it was too late. Loki was gesturing like a conductor, and Verity was engulfed in a gold-green swirl of light and, she was pretty sure, glitter. It sparkled blindingly at her for a minute, and then faded as quickly as it had arisen, leaving her blinking.

Her clothes felt heavier, and also silkier against her skin. She looked down. Her t-shirt had been replaced by a deep purple garment with translucent, slashed sleeves that showed her tattoos and draped down almost to her knees. They were ridiculous, and she loved them instantly. She had a bodice with a neckline that dipped down low but not _too_ low, rich with embroidery in shades of green. A heavy gold belt sat low on her hips. 

Her jeans had been transformed into… A couple of satiny panels hanging down below the belt, which left her legs bare all the way to her hips on each side.

“I’m going to need more pants than this,” Verity said. “I do like these kicky little boots, though.”

Loki made a disapproving noise. “Can we compromise with leggings?”

“Yeah, okay,” Verity said. Loki conjured up something that honestly was a little more like tights than leggings, but it was better than bare legs and Verity decided to just leave it alone. She gestured toward the horned circlet on Loki’s brow. “When do I get a cool hat?”

Loki narrowed her eyes. “You have to _earn_ a hat this cool.”

Almost true. Verity made a mental note to find out more about the whole hat situation later, because honestly, what was even up with the horns? But there were more pressing questions. “Wait, where’s my phone?”

Loki gestured at her skirt-thing. “It has pockets!”

“ _How_?” Verity asked. The front panel was hanging straight down like a curtain, and it wasn’t a heavy enough fabric to disguise the line of a debit card, much less a smart phone. But when she tried putting her hand where a pocket would be in a normal skirt - a place that didn’t exactly even exist on this one - sure enough, there it was. And her phone was in it.

Loki wiggled her fingers. “Sorcery.”

“That’s awesome.”

Loki bowed.

Verity checked her battery - almost fully charged, good. She hadn’t thought to grab a charger. Or an electrical outlet, or a power station - and then put the phone back in her invisible pocket. “So what are we doing here, exactly?”

“ _Well_ ,” Loki said, “the Vanir have been struck with a disturbing collection of suspicious deaths. Vanir, like Aesir - and Jotunn - are rather difficult to kill, so it’s all caused a bit of fuss. The problem is that the cause of death in each case is different, but every incident has a certain… Ironic, theatrical appeal. An engineer hoist with his own petard, or blown up by it, that kind of thing.”

Verity raised her eyebrows. “So when you say ‘theatrical,’ you mean ‘tricksterish?’”

“One could say that,” Loki allowed, examining the tip of a long strand of hair for split ends.

“And the chief suspect for this series of tricksterish murders is?”

“Yours truly.” Loki beamed at her. “See, you really are a good detective!”

“Did you do it?” Verity asked.

“Nope!”

True. Which was reassuring, but not very helpful.

“If I wanted to murder people secretly, I wouldn’t make it look like I’d done it,” she added, which was also true, and much less reassuring. “Besides, I’m mostly good now.”

Mostly true. Verity grimaced. “You realise I’m not actually a detective, right? I have two months of criminal justice classes and the ability to judge the truth of direct statements.”

“Verity, don’t be so hard on yourself! You’re an A-plus student and you just recently solved a frame-job case.”

“ _Jessica_ solved the case,” Verity pointed out. “You should have brought her.”

Loki inspected her nails. “Be serious, Verity. If I’d abducted Jessica Jones, I’d have at least a dozen superheroes on my tail by now, all of them swearing undying revenge.”

“I meant you could _pay_ her.”

“Isn’t this nice?” Loki said brightly. “Aren’t we having fun? Let’s go meet the locals.”

* * *

Vanaheim was stunning. Calling it “pastoral” evoked a number of culturally specific stereotypes that probably didn’t actually apply, but Verity couldn’t get away from the word. They walked down a well-kept dirt road, passing verdant pastures, golden fields of grain, and sturdy, brightly-painted farmhouses. Past the farmlands to her left she could see huge forests, the trees a towering dark green smudge against a perfectly blue sky. On the right, the farms became mountains, majestic and snow-capped.

When the happy children ran across the road in front of them, their laughter like a choruses of silvery bells, Verity stopped in her tracks.

“What’s the catch?”

“Mm?”

“Nowhere can be this perfect.”

“Vanaheim? It’s not perfect. It’s deadly dull.” Loki swept her hand over the view, grimacing. “So _rural_. They built these amazing citadels, and abandoned them years ago to return to the trees and the fields. Can you believe it?”

Verity could.

“Now the centre of government - such as it is - is a _village_.”

“Will we get there soon?” The adorable conjured boots had heels on them; not super-high heels, but definitely more intense than the sneakers Verity had started the day with, and she was starting to sort of miss Loki’s unicorn form.

“Five or ten minutes, depending on whether we stop to take in the sights,” Loki said. She didn’t make finger quotes around the last word, but Verity could tell she wanted to.

It probably did take longer than five minutes, because Verity was taking her time and unironically enjoying the views, but pretty soon they were climbing up a small rise, and when they reached the top, there was… A cluster of two dozen or so buildings. Some of them were pretty large and they were all really sturdy and obviously well-constructed, but still.

“Would you even call that a village?” Verity asked.

“It’s bigger than a breadbox, and smaller than a city,” Loki said glumly. “Can you believe my mother was born here? Or that my father wanted to _conquer_ it?”

“Well, yeah,” Verity said. She wasn’t lying, after all. “But I get your point. Not everywhere has to be Manhattan, though, you know?”

“Meh. Anyway, I probably should have mentioned that there’s a tiny complication,” Loki said. “I have to get permission to view the bodies, and it will probably work better if I don’t tell them my expert consultant is from Midgard. Sooooo I’m going to stash you in this mead hall while I visit the authorities.”

She had led the way down the hill while she was talking, and Verity had followed without really thinking about it, and sure enough they were right outside a great big building with a sign that said something in incomprehensible writing next to a totally comprehensible picture of a tankard of beer. Loki took her arm and hustled her up the steps to the door.

“Wait,” Verity said. Loki tugged her through a dark little hall and into a huge room filled with long tables and loud people. Verity felt her stomach clench. “Loki!”

“You’ll be fine, I’ll find someone to-- Oh, good, she’s here.” Loki plowed through the crowd towards a tall redhead who was sitting at a table by herself. Verity thought there was probably a good reason the table didn’t have any other occupants in such a crowded space, but Loki was plunking her down on the bench opposite before she could protest.

“If you non-lethally prevent anyone from causing my companion physical harm for the span of an hour, I’ll give you my Netflix password,” Loki said.

“Deal,” the redhead said.

“Excellent. Angela, this is Verity,” Loki said. “Verity, this is my sister Angela. Don’t make any bargains with her or ask her for any favours, even something like ‘please pass the bread’. Other than that, she’s mostly fine and probably won’t kill you.” She turned to go before Verity could even start internally listing her questions, then paused. “Also, don’t eat the bread,” she said over her shoulder. “Or anything else unless I give it to you personally. All right, see you soon!”

Angela’s expression, of a deep and unsettling calm, hadn’t changed throughout this speech. She nodded at Verity. Verity nodded back. Not speaking at all was probably safest.

“What is the nature of your relationship with my sister?” Angela asked. “Or is it brother? I have known her in his male form too.” 

“We’re good friends,” Verity said, and fought the urge to ask about Asgardian pronouns and how they were rendered through the Allspeak. From Loki’s various rants about her family, she’d picked up that Angela hadn’t been raised in Asgard, though she vaguely thought that she wasn’t Vanir, either. What were the odds that she was hanging out in this mead-hall by sheer chance?

“Ah,” Angela said.

The conversation appeared to be over. Verity watched a platter of roasted something go past and sighed. She hadn’t been that hungry until Loki had told her to avoid the food.

“I live on Midgard,” Angela said. “With my beloved.”

“That’s… Nice,” Verity said cautiously. Did the stricture against asking for favours mean she couldn’t ask for information? How did anyone manage small talk? She risked an observation: “I think I saw you on TV during some of Loki’s campaign events. Doing security.”

“Yes,” Angela said. “The election.” She infused the last work with such scorn Verity was surprised it didn’t catch fire. “A dismal process, wherein mortals promise they will fulfil tasks in exchange for a vote, and then fail to carry out those tasks.”

“Yeah, pretty much,” Verity said. “Lots of liars in politics. Nearly as many as in advertising.”

Angela shook her head sadly. “And yet so few of them are killed by those they betray. Do you like ice cream?” 

“Uh. Yes?”

“Hm.”

That was the end of the conversation again, apparently. Verity looked around. She had thought Loki might be taking the outfit she had conjured too far, especially with the full length leg slits, but apparently it was actually pretty on-trend for the realms beyond Midgard. She was seeing plenty of leg, and midriff, and really a lot more exposed chest - both male and female - than she was used to. And also big, billowy sleeves, floor-length skirts with trains, and face-shadowing hoods. Sometimes in almost paradoxical combinations. And there was a table in the corner with half a dozen people who all seemed to be wearing cloaks made from the skins of pink and purple lions, just to really hammer home that she wasn’t in Kansas anymore.

She was so busy rubbernecking that she didn’t notice the guy approaching their table until he was thumping down onto the bench next to her. Verity flinched backward a little, both because she was startled and because he was enormous, smelled like a whole microbrewery, and was wearing a lot of big knives strapped to various parts of his body.

“The Odinsons do like their mortal playthings,” he said, skipping right past introductions and into implied insults.

“Gross,” Verity said.

The stranger chuckled. “Disgusting. But I can see why a brief dalliance might appeal. You’ll spoil soon, but for now you are ripe, indeed.”

And then the asshole grabbed her breast.

Verity didn’t have to decide what to do about it. Before she could think about reacting, Angela had lunged across the table and whacked the guy on the side of his head with the flat of her sword. Which was probably better for him than the blade side, but not by a lot - the skin of his cheek split open under the pressure, and blood spurted out, coating his jaw and splattering up into his eye.

“ _Bitch_!” he shouted, putting his hands on the grips of two of his knives, but he didn’t even manage to stand all the way up before Angela kicked him in the forehead, hard, with the heel of her boot. He toppled backward onto the floor all at once, like a cartoon character, and stayed there.

“Oh god-- Is he-- Loki said non-lethal!”

“He’ll live,” Angela said. She sat back down. “Tell me, mortal. What is your favorite Netflix Original Series?”

It turned out that quite a few Vanir were connoisseurs of Midgardian streaming content. It seemed to be one of the chief reasons any of them bothered to visit. Verity and Angela’s table was soon surrounded by people passionately extolling the virtues of _One Day At A Time_ and arguing about whether Amazon, HBO, or Netflix provided better original work.

When Loki returned, Verity was explaining to a short person with the most impressive moustaches she’d ever seen that _The Handmaid’s Tale_ was not historical drama.

“What about _3%_ , then?”

“No. See, there’s this thing called a dystopia, where--”

“Mortals don’t know the shape of their Ragnarok, so they like to imagine it in different guises,” Loki explained.

The moustached person looked fascinated.

“I guess you could put it that way,” Verity conceded.

“I’m the Goddess of Stories,” Loki said cheerfully. “I can and will.”

“Cursed liar,” someone else muttered. “Giant’s get.”

“Yes, yes, all of that.” She tossed Verity a Clif bar. “Come along, everything’s ready for us.”

Angela stood up. Loki frowned. 

“The hour of my protection is not yet over,” Angela said. 

“Oh, very well,” Loki said. “Let’s go look at a body.”

Verity winced. “Fun.” 

“I’m proud of you, you know,” Loki said, as they walked to the outskirts of the village. “When I first met you, you couldn’t watch any fiction at all! And now you can debate the pros and cons of _The Expanse_ versus _The 100_.”

“You’re a bad influence,” Verity said. It was half a lie, but worth it to see Loki pout.

* * *

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/163559337@N08/30158270068/in/dateposted-public/)

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/163559337@N08/42217528260/in/dateposted-public/)

* * *

It was hard not to puke.

“What am I looking at?” Verity said. “Other than… A body.”

“He seems to have been twisted in half,” Angela observed.

True. Verity winced.

“It’s _interesting_ , right?” Loki’s manic smile was maybe not totally appropriate for the venue, but Angela didn’t seem put off by it.

“Very, sister,” she said. “How was it done?”

“An excellent question, and one I’m hoping Verity will be able to help us with.”

Verity shook her head. “I haven’t had any forensic training. At all. I’m not even actually interested in forensics.”

Loki paced around the body, hands clasped behind her back. “Ah, but what we have here is not just a corpse - it’s also a story. And you’re excellent at finding the truth in stories.”

Hm. “I don’t know if that will work. I can tell if someone is lying, and I can tell if something isn’t real, but if a person really believes their lies that feels like truth to me.”

“I don’t believe anything,” Angela offered.

“Well,” Verity started to say, but Loki stopped her with a raised hand.

“No, no, she’s right, if inaccurate in her phrasing. Angela has no stake in this - she doesn’t have any reason to favor one potential interpretation of the facts over any other. And she doesn’t know what happened, so she can’t even know if she’s telling you the truth about it or not until you tell us!”

“Um.” Verity paused. _Would_ that work? It was strange to realize it, but she’d never actually tested her power that much. It was a burden she had to bear, this thing that kept her from enjoying the things other people did, made it almost impossible to have friends… She knew when people were lying, the end. No reason to go further.

“He died of natural causes,” Angela said.

Lie.

“But you know that’s not true,” Verity pointed out.

Angela frowned. “He was twisted in half manually, by one very strong or very large individual.”

Lie…

“I’m not sure if that-- See, if _I_ had said that, I’d be lying, because I wouldn’t think that was possible. Like, before I met Loki, I mean.”

“Oh, it’s possible,” Loki said. “My bio dad could do it in his sleep. And Angela knows that it could be done.”

Ugh. True, true, true.

“His lower body was restrained, and the upper half twisted off by some means,” Angela said.

Lie. Verity shook her head.

“His upper body was restrained, and the lower half twisted off by some means.”

True.

“Holy shit. It works,” Verity said. Jessica was going to love this. “Tell me he was killed by someone he knew well.”

Angela repeated it. It was a lie, but they eventually worked out that the victim had been killed by someone he’d met at least once, who he hadn’t regarded as a threat and also that the killer was Vanir. 

“So that rules you out,” Verity told Loki. 

Loki sniffed. “I was ruled out the second I told you I didn’t do it,” she said petulantly. 

Angela stood up. “This has become less interesting, and my contracted time has ended,” she said. “Farewell, sister. Farewell, Verity Willis. Meeting you was the pleasure Loki promised.”

“It was nice to meet you too,” Verity said automatically, and then realised it was true. Angela was deeply weird, but fun company. 

“So, next steps?” Loki said, looking completely unashamed about the fact that she’d obviously arranged a meeting between Angela and Verity under the guise of coincidence. 

Verity made a face at her, but answered the question. “Jessica would say do some research on the victim - but the Vanir don’t really have social media accounts and stuff, right? - and then start interviewing everyone you can get a hold of who might possibly know something.”

“That sounds tedious.”

“It goes a little faster when I’m there,” Verity said. “But only if I know the right questions to ask - Jessica has enough experience to know what those are going to be.”

Loki cocked her head. “‘Did you do it?’ ought to cover the necessary ground, no?”

“That’s not usually what breaks the case. You’re not going to get lucky just asking every one of potentially hundreds of people that. You have to build up a picture of what happened from a bunch of interviews to find the important intersections.”

“Back to stories, excellent,” Loki said. “Shall we go hear some?”

“No,” Verity said. “I’m mortal, and I’d already finished a long day when you came and got me. I need to rest.”

Loki made a face. “This place doesn’t really have adequate accommodation for hire.”

“I don’t need a five-star hotel,” Verity said, although plush linens and artisanal room service cocktails did sound appealing. “I need a _bed_.

“Hm,” Loki said, and became a unicorn again. This time she was a mare unicorn, which Verity found hilarious for strange and probably exhaustion-related reasons. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Ten minutes later they were making camp in the middle of a field, while unfamiliar stars blazed down from a dark blue velvet sky and the scents of night-blooming flowers drifted by on the warm breeze.

“I said bed, not a bed-roll,” Verity mumbled, but if Loki said anything in response, she was asleep before she heard it.

* * *

They started the interviews the next morning. Vanaheim wasn’t without a police force of its own, but they mostly focused on keeping public order and occasionally conducting very small wars - or that’s what Loki said, and she wasn’t quite lying. Most of the murders they investigated were pretty open and shut crime of passion type things. A lot of times the killer was the one who actually reported the murder. But they did have a standard protocol for witness interviews, so Verity had those for a starting point.

She also had a representative from the police force, a Vanir man almost as wide as he was tall, with forearms like slabs of beef. His name was Hulder, and his reaction to the presence of a Midgardian on his case was… Not encouraging.

“Vanaheim’s crimes are the concern of the Vanir,” he growled, sounding like every grouchy police captain in the movies when the FBI turned up.

“Vanaheim’s crimes have implicated me,” Loki pointed out sweetly. “I’m distraught.”

The last statement was a lie so obvious that even Hulder rolled his eyes.

“I also have the right to nominate a deputy to aid me in my quest to clear my name,” she added. “I nominate Verity Willis of Midgard.” She considered this for a moment. “So there.”

Hulder scowled, but didn’t protest further. 

They started with the last person to see the victim alive, a cider-brewer who’d bought apples from him.

“Did you like the victim?” Verity asked.

The woman snorted. “No one liked him. He had a monopoly on the Ithun’s Kiss varietal, though, so we had to deal with him.” She hesitated, clearly uncertain how much a Midgardian education prepared one for complex concepts. “A monopoly is when--”

“She’s got it, thank you!” Loki said, and then spoiled it by adding, “Ithun’s Kiss makes good cider.”

“So he gave you bad supplies?”

“Hah! Every bad year, half of them wormy and half the rest rotten.” She was exaggerating, but not by much. “And if you complained, the prices didn’t go down, oh no. He was a twisted man.”

Verity got a sudden full-body memory of the victim’s twisted torso, and had to focus hard on keeping her breakfast Clif bar in her stomach. “Did you kill him?”

“No,” the woman said, and spat on the ground. “But blessings on the hand of the one who did.” She looked curiously at Loki. “Was it you, Goddess of Lies?”

“Goddess of Stories,” Loki said. “And no. My name has been maligned, rumours of my perfidy have been greatly exaggerated, etcetera, etcetera.”

It went on like that. Most of the interviewees were business contacts - the victim didn’t seem to have had much in the way of actual friends. Most of them clearly thought Loki had committed the murder, and none of them seemed that sad about it.

“I thought you said these murders had disturbed the community,” Verity said, between interviews.

“That’s what I was told,” Loki said. She looked at Hulder. “How many were there, again?”

“Four so far,” Hulder said. “There was Fulda the fish seller -”

“- stuffed into a barrel of rancid offal -” Loki said.

“- Dothildr the bard -”

“Oh, the one who used to passive-aggressively mock her audiences? Swallowing her tongue must have been a novel sensation for her.”

“- and Adils the teacher.”

“Ah, yes,” Loki said. “He was the one artfully flayed by his own birch switch, was he not? The children were upset, I suppose.”

“His students found the body?” Verity said, her voice climbing.

“Yes,” Hulder said, looking uncomfortable. “As far as we can tell, the murderer intended the body to be found by his wife when she came looking for him, but… She didn’t. The students found him the next morning.”

“I need to talk to the wife,” Verity said, but her hopes for an easy win were dashed when Adil’s wife said she hadn’t killed him, she didn’t know who had killed him, and that if he’d taken that switch to her one more time she would have done the deed herself and proclaimed it from the market square. 

“I’m only sorry that the children had to see him,” she said. “We had hoped to protect them from such things, since the Asgardian peace.” Hulder winced again.

The Vanir woman patted Verity’s hand. “I am pleased that you have escaped Gilead,” she said, and then Verity had to explain dystopias again.

Hulder unbent a little during the ensuing discussion about genre categories, but that didn’t extend to allowing Verity to talk to the kids. Loki argued that all of the “children” were much older than Verity herself, but this unfortunately led to the revelation that Verity hadn’t even seen three decades yet.

“You think a Midgardian infant can solve this?” Hulder bellowed.

“Yes,” Loki said, and the absolute truth of that was kind of comforting.

But it was still hard to sleep that evening. Her phone had lost some battery power, but not as much as she’d expected. Possibly it was feeding off Vanaheim’s ambient energy; weirder things could happen, and did all the time.

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/163559337@N08/30158269718/in/dateposted-public/)

So it was morning in Midgard. Since Jessica didn’t touch her phone when her daughter was in the car, it’d be a while before she got a response. Verity typed her questions and tucked the phone back into her magical tunic pocket.

“The thing is,” she said out loud, “the majority of serial killers - at least, on Earth - don’t really act like this.”

“Mmm,” Loki said. Verity wasn’t sure she was actually awake.

“They usually kill the same kinds of people… Not just, ‘people who were mean’ or something, but _really_ specific. Only mean people who are in a certain age range and have other stuff in common, like ethnicity, or hair colour.”

“Mmhmm,” Loki said.

“And they don’t switch methods every single time either. Serial killers have, like, a compulsive need to create a specific crime, and they circle around the same thing over and over. All this theatrical stuff is so…” Verity sat up abruptly. “Loki, what’s the worst thing about Vanaheim?”

“It’s so bloody _boring_ ,” Loki said sleepily.

True.

“And a lot of the Vanir really like Midgardian TV, right?”

Loki’s eyes snapped open, and she sat up too. “No! Really?”

“I think maybe yes.”

Loki stared at her, mouth agape. Then her eyes narrowed with purpose. “The killer is _so bored_ they’re creating their own version of a crime drama.”

 _True_.

“Where does Hulder live?” Verity said, rolling to her feet. “We’d better let him know about this right away.”

Loki’s outline blurred. “I’ll sniff him out,” he declared.

Verity blinked. “As a fox?”

“What would you expect?”

“Well, I wasn’t thinking canine at all. But if you were going that way... A bloodhound, I guess?”

Loki’s tail lashed. “A _dog_? Verity, I can’t be a dog. Dogs aren’t _me_.”

“I can see that. Loyal, friendly, dedicated…”

“...Inferior to foxes in every way.” He smiled, in a way that involved a lot of sharp white teeth; all fox and yet distinctly Loki. The long grass barely rustled in his wake.

Hulder lived outside the village proper, in a cottage with sweet-smelling pink flowers growing profusely along the walls. He was not happy to be woken.

“This is important,” Verity said, and moved forward so that he’d either have to get out of the way, or she’d walk right into him. Granted, this would affect him about as much as a falling leaf, but personal space protocols kicked in and he moved. “We’ve cracked the case. The killer is a bored Vanir trying to create a police drama.”

It still _sounded_ ridiculous. But it was still entirely true.

Hulder stared at her, and then at Loki, who shook back into human-ish male form and let the front door fall closed behind him. “ _She_ stumbled upon this idea?” he asked.

Loki smiled, teeth still fox-like. “She did! So now all you have to do is compile a list of known crime drama fans who had access to all four of the victims, and Verity will ask them if they did it, and boom! Killer caught, name cleared, Verity gets a special prize of some kind.” He pursed his lips. “Maybe a fountain.”

“I don’t want a fountain,” Verity said, “I just want to-- What’s wrong?”

Loki’s smile had abruptly disappeared. He’d blanched even paler than usual, which was saying something. “My mother is here.”

“Freyja?”

“Yes. I have alert spells in every realm except Asgard, so that-- Never mind, the mechanics don’t matter. I need to go and see what trickery she’s preparing this time.”

“The All-Mother’s presence is an honour!” Hulder exclaimed.

“Maybe if you haven’t stabbed her recently,” Loki muttered. “Verity, stay here. I’ll be back soon.”

“But… Right now?” Verity asked. “We broke the case. We’re clearing your name!”

“This is actually important,” Loki said, and disappeared.

“He didn’t stab her _that_ recently,” Verity said into the awkward silence that followed. _Actually important_? Ouch. “But, um. The killer...”

“Your theory is ludicrous,” Hulder said.

Lie, Verity registered absently, and then her stomach froze.

She wasn’t picking up any nuance. He didn’t hope she was wrong, but secretly believe she was right. He wasn’t uncertain, but clinging to the idea that she was fallible. He _knew_ it was a lie. 

He knew that her theory wasn’t ludicrous. He _knew_ she was right.

And there was only one reasonable explanation for that.

The door was miles away. “Well,” she said, as casually as she could. “I’ve always wanted to meet Freyja, so maybe--”

“You stay there,” Hulder said. He shifted his weight and shook his shoulders, like a dog settling into place. God, he was huge. “I was improving Vanaheim, that’s all. Those people were blights. Cankerous sores.”

“Mm-hmm,” Verity said brightly.

“And there was no reason not to make it entertaining,” he went on, half to himself. “It does get dull, mediating disputes over whose grandfather owned which field. I thought implicating the trickster would make things interesting.” 

“Oh, Hulder. No. This is so sad,” Verity said. She started edging backward, wondering if she could reach the door before he did, or if anyone outside was close enough to hear her if she screamed.

“It was _working_!” he snarled. “And then you came!”

Verity turned and sprinted for the door. “Help! Someone! Hel--”

Hulder cut her screaming off with one hand over her mouth, and pinned her arms down with the other. Verity jerked and kicked, but he would have outmatched her by size alone even without Vanir strength. When she tried biting down on his palm he squeezed her jaw before she could sink her teeth in, forcing her mouth back open.

“Quiet, now,” he muttered in her ear. “You be quiet.”

 _Like hell I will_ , Verity thought. She slammed the heels of her boots against his shins with all her strength. She made claws with her hands and scratched anything she could reach. But it didn’t work. He held her tight, tighter, so tight she couldn’t breathe.

She couldn’t breathe.

She couldn’t--


	2. Chapter One: Text-Only

Text from Verity: jsyk I’m not going to be available the rest of this week, possibly longer. Had to go out of town suddenly.

Text from Jessica: Oh? Somewhere fun?

Text from Verity: Vanaheim

Text from Jessica: You have cell service in Vanaheim?

Text from Verity: Apparently

Text from Jessica: Handy. Let me know when you get back. Try not to get enchanted or cursed or whatever.

Text from Verity: [a “thumb’s up” emoji]

“What about my homework, though?” Verity wondered aloud. She was taking her courses online, so she wasn’t on the hook for attendance, but if this whole thing was going to keep her out of town for more than a day or two she was going to need to do some reading at the very least. She thumped Loki on the shoulder and raised her voice a little. “Hey, do you guys get wifi up here?”

Loki shrugged, which was an impressive thing to see - and feel - on a unicorn. “We’ll figure it out. You’re acing the class anyway. I’m sure you can miss a couple of assignments. And you don’t need to shout. My ears are enormous right now.”

“Just because I _can_ miss assignments doesn’t mean I want to.” Verity poked one of his ears. It twitched. Her best friend was a unicorn, and she was riding on his back. On another planet. “This is so weird.”

“I promise, it could be much, much weirder.”

True.

Loki slowed to a walk, then stopped, and showily bent his - elbows? Front knees? The leg bendy parts on the front end - which probably would have allowed Verity to slide gracefully to the ground if she had any experience riding horses. But she didn’t, and her legs and butt were basically numb, so she just fell off sideways. At least Vanaheim had very cushy turf.

“That was amazing,” Loki said, laughing. She stood up, human-ish again, and pulled her phone out of her pocket. “Don’t move, I want to capture this moment.”

Verity saluted her with two middle fingers. “Next time I’m going to put a saddle on you. Help me up.”

Loki blew a raspberry at her and took the picture, then grabbed Verity’s wrists and hauled her to her feet. She wrinkled her nose. “Now _you’re_ the one who smells like horse.”

“Not my fault, sweaty-flanks. And it’s not like I have a change of clothes, so…”

Loki clapped her hands together, grinning. “Yes! Perfect! A makeover. Hold still.”

“What? Wait!”

But it was too late. Loki was gesturing like a conductor, and Verity was engulfed in a gold-green swirl of light and, she was pretty sure, glitter. It sparkled blindingly at her for a minute, and then faded as quickly as it had arisen, leaving her blinking.

Her clothes felt heavier, and also silkier against her skin. She looked down. Her t-shirt had been replaced by a deep purple garment with translucent, slashed sleeves that showed her tattoos and draped down almost to her knees. They were ridiculous, and she loved them instantly. She had a bodice with a neckline that dipped down low but not _too_ low, rich with embroidery in shades of green. A heavy gold belt sat low on her hips. 

Her jeans had been transformed into… A couple of satiny panels hanging down below the belt, which left her legs bare all the way to her hips on each side.

“I’m going to need more pants than this,” Verity said. “I do like these kicky little boots, though.”

Loki made a disapproving noise. “Can we compromise with leggings?”

“Yeah, okay,” Verity said. Loki conjured up something that honestly was a little more like tights than leggings, but it was better than bare legs and Verity decided to just leave it alone. She gestured toward the horned circlet on Loki’s brow. “When do I get a cool hat?”

Loki narrowed her eyes. “You have to _earn_ a hat this cool.”

Almost true. Verity made a mental note to find out more about the whole hat situation later, because honestly, what was even up with the horns? But there were more pressing questions. “Wait, where’s my phone?”

Loki gestured at her skirt-thing. “It has pockets!”

“ _How_?” Verity asked. The front panel was hanging straight down like a curtain, and it wasn’t a heavy enough fabric to disguise the line of a debit card, much less a smart phone. But when she tried putting her hand where a pocket would be in a normal skirt - a place that didn’t exactly even exist on this one - sure enough, there it was. And her phone was in it.

Loki wiggled her fingers. “Sorcery.”

“That’s awesome.”

Loki bowed.

Verity checked her battery - almost fully charged, good. She hadn’t thought to grab a charger. Or an electrical outlet, or a power station - and then put the phone back in her invisible pocket. “So what are we doing here, exactly?”

“ _Well_ ,” Loki said, “the Vanir have been struck with a disturbing collection of suspicious deaths. Vanir, like Aesir - and Jotunn - are rather difficult to kill, so it’s all caused a bit of fuss. The problem is that the cause of death in each case is different, but every incident has a certain… Ironic, theatrical appeal. An engineer hoist with his own petard, or blown up by it, that kind of thing.”

Verity raised her eyebrows. “So when you say ‘theatrical,’ you mean ‘tricksterish?’”

“One could say that,” Loki allowed, examining the tip of a long strand of hair for split ends.

“And the chief suspect for this series of tricksterish murders is?”

“Yours truly.” Loki beamed at her. “See, you really are a good detective!”

“Did you do it?” Verity asked.

“Nope!”

True. Which was reassuring, but not very helpful.

“If I wanted to murder people secretly, I wouldn’t make it look like I’d done it,” she added, which was also true, and much less reassuring. “Besides, I’m mostly good now.”

Mostly true. Verity grimaced. “You realise I’m not actually a detective, right? I have two months of criminal justice classes and the ability to judge the truth of direct statements.”

“Verity, don’t be so hard on yourself! You’re an A-plus student and you just recently solved a frame-job case.”

“ _Jessica_ solved the case,” Verity pointed out. “You should have brought her.”

Loki inspected her nails. “Be serious, Verity. If I’d abducted Jessica Jones, I’d have at least a dozen superheroes on my tail by now, all of them swearing undying revenge.”

“I meant you could _pay_ her.”

“Isn’t this nice?” Loki said brightly. “Aren’t we having fun? Let’s go meet the locals.”

* * *

Vanaheim was stunning. Calling it “pastoral” evoked a number of culturally specific stereotypes that probably didn’t actually apply, but Verity couldn’t get away from the word. They walked down a well-kept dirt road, passing verdant pastures, golden fields of grain, and sturdy, brightly-painted farmhouses. Past the farmlands to her left she could see huge forests, the trees a towering dark green smudge against a perfectly blue sky. On the right, the farms became mountains, majestic and snow-capped.

When the happy children ran across the road in front of them, their laughter like a choruses of silvery bells, Verity stopped in her tracks.

“What’s the catch?”

“Mm?”

“Nowhere can be this perfect.”

“Vanaheim? It’s not perfect. It’s deadly dull.” Loki swept her hand over the view, grimacing. “So _rural_. They built these amazing citadels, and abandoned them years ago to return to the trees and the fields. Can you believe it?”

Verity could.

“Now the centre of government - such as it is - is a _village_.”

“Will we get there soon?” The adorable conjured boots had heels on them; not super-high heels, but definitely more intense than the sneakers Verity had started the day with, and she was starting to sort of miss Loki’s unicorn form.

“Five or ten minutes, depending on whether we stop to take in the sights,” Loki said. She didn’t make finger quotes around the last word, but Verity could tell she wanted to.

It probably did take longer than five minutes, because Verity was taking her time and unironically enjoying the views, but pretty soon they were climbing up a small rise, and when they reached the top, there was… A cluster of two dozen or so buildings. Some of them were pretty large and they were all really sturdy and obviously well-constructed, but still.

“Would you even call that a village?” Verity asked.

“It’s bigger than a breadbox, and smaller than a city,” Loki said glumly. “Can you believe my mother was born here? Or that my father wanted to _conquer_ it?”

“Well, yeah,” Verity said. She wasn’t lying, after all. “But I get your point. Not everywhere has to be Manhattan, though, you know?”

“Meh. Anyway, I probably should have mentioned that there’s a tiny complication,” Loki said. “I have to get permission to view the bodies, and it will probably work better if I don’t tell them my expert consultant is from Midgard. Sooooo I’m going to stash you in this mead hall while I visit the authorities.”

She had led the way down the hill while she was talking, and Verity had followed without really thinking about it, and sure enough they were right outside a great big building with a sign that said something in incomprehensible writing next to a totally comprehensible picture of a tankard of beer. Loki took her arm and hustled her up the steps to the door.

“Wait,” Verity said. Loki tugged her through a dark little hall and into a huge room filled with long tables and loud people. Verity felt her stomach clench. “Loki!”

“You’ll be fine, I’ll find someone to-- Oh, good, she’s here.” Loki plowed through the crowd towards a tall redhead who was sitting at a table by herself. Verity thought there was probably a good reason the table didn’t have any other occupants in such a crowded space, but Loki was plunking her down on the bench opposite before she could protest.

“If you non-lethally prevent anyone from causing my companion physical harm for the span of an hour, I’ll give you my Netflix password,” Loki said.

“Deal,” the redhead said.

“Excellent. Angela, this is Verity,” Loki said. “Verity, this is my sister Angela. Don’t make any bargains with her or ask her for any favours, even something like ‘please pass the bread’. Other than that, she’s mostly fine and probably won’t kill you.” She turned to go before Verity could even start internally listing her questions, then paused. “Also, don’t eat the bread,” she said over her shoulder. “Or anything else unless I give it to you personally. All right, see you soon!”

Angela’s expression, of a deep and unsettling calm, hadn’t changed throughout this speech. She nodded at Verity. Verity nodded back. Not speaking at all was probably safest.

“What is the nature of your relationship with my sister?” Angela asked. “Or is it brother? I have known her in his male form too.” 

“We’re good friends,” Verity said, and fought the urge to ask about Asgardian pronouns and how they were rendered through the Allspeak. From Loki’s various rants about her family, she’d picked up that Angela hadn’t been raised in Asgard, though she vaguely thought that she wasn’t Vanir, either. What were the odds that she was hanging out in this mead-hall by sheer chance?

“Ah,” Angela said.

The conversation appeared to be over. Verity watched a platter of roasted something go past and sighed. She hadn’t been that hungry until Loki had told her to avoid the food.

“I live on Midgard,” Angela said. “With my beloved.”

“That’s… Nice,” Verity said cautiously. Did the stricture against asking for favours mean she couldn’t ask for information? How did anyone manage small talk? She risked an observation: “I think I saw you on TV during some of Loki’s campaign events. Doing security.”

“Yes,” Angela said. “The election.” She infused the last work with such scorn Verity was surprised it didn’t catch fire. “A dismal process, wherein mortals promise they will fulfil tasks in exchange for a vote, and then fail to carry out those tasks.”

“Yeah, pretty much,” Verity said. “Lots of liars in politics. Nearly as many as in advertising.”

Angela shook her head sadly. “And yet so few of them are killed by those they betray. Do you like ice cream?” 

“Uh. Yes?”

“Hm.”

That was the end of the conversation again, apparently. Verity looked around. She had thought Loki might be taking the outfit she had conjured too far, especially with the full length leg slits, but apparently it was actually pretty on-trend for the realms beyond Midgard. She was seeing plenty of leg, and midriff, and really a lot more exposed chest - both male and female - than she was used to. And also big, billowy sleeves, floor-length skirts with trains, and face-shadowing hoods. Sometimes in almost paradoxical combinations. And there was a table in the corner with half a dozen people who all seemed to be wearing cloaks made from the skins of pink and purple lions, just to really hammer home that she wasn’t in Kansas anymore.

She was so busy rubbernecking that she didn’t notice the guy approaching their table until he was thumping down onto the bench next to her. Verity flinched backward a little, both because she was startled and because he was enormous, smelled like a whole microbrewery, and was wearing a lot of big knives strapped to various parts of his body.

“The Odinsons do like their mortal playthings,” he said, skipping right past introductions and into implied insults.

“Gross,” Verity said.

The stranger chuckled. “Disgusting. But I can see why a brief dalliance might appeal. You’ll spoil soon, but for now you are ripe, indeed.”

And then the asshole grabbed her breast.

Verity didn’t have to decide what to do about it. Before she could think about reacting, Angela had lunged across the table and whacked the guy on the side of his head with the flat of her sword. Which was probably better for him than the blade side, but not by a lot - the skin of his cheek split open under the pressure, and blood spurted out, coating his jaw and splattering up into his eye.

“ _Bitch_!” he shouted, putting his hands on the grips of two of his knives, but he didn’t even manage to stand all the way up before Angela kicked him in the forehead, hard, with the heel of her boot. He toppled backward onto the floor all at once, like a cartoon character, and stayed there.

“Oh god-- Is he-- Loki said non-lethal!”

“He’ll live,” Angela said. She sat back down. “Tell me, mortal. What is your favorite Netflix Original Series?”

It turned out that quite a few Vanir were connoisseurs of Midgardian streaming content. It seemed to be one of the chief reasons any of them bothered to visit. Verity and Angela’s table was soon surrounded by people passionately extolling the virtues of _One Day At A Time_ and arguing about whether Amazon, HBO, or Netflix provided better original work.

When Loki returned, Verity was explaining to a short person with the most impressive moustaches she’d ever seen that _The Handmaid’s Tale_ was not historical drama.

“What about _3%_ , then?”

“No. See, there’s this thing called a dystopia, where--”

“Mortals don’t know the shape of their Ragnarok, so they like to imagine it in different guises,” Loki explained.

The moustached person looked fascinated.

“I guess you could put it that way,” Verity conceded.

“I’m the Goddess of Stories,” Loki said cheerfully. “I can and will.”

“Cursed liar,” someone else muttered. “Giant’s get.”

“Yes, yes, all of that.” She tossed Verity a Clif bar. “Come along, everything’s ready for us.”

Angela stood up. Loki frowned. 

“The hour of my protection is not yet over,” Angela said. 

“Oh, very well,” Loki said. “Let’s go look at a body.”

Verity winced. “Fun.” 

“I’m proud of you, you know,” Loki said, as they walked to the outskirts of the village. “When I first met you, you couldn’t watch any fiction at all! And now you can debate the pros and cons of _The Expanse_ versus _The 100_.”

“You’re a bad influence,” Verity said. It was half a lie, but worth it to see Loki pout.

* * *

Text from Verity: Apparently we’re going to a magical morgue. Help.

Text from Jessica: What, you want a remote consult?

Text from Verity: Is that a thing?

Text from Jessica: No. Or, probably, but it’s not a thing I’M gonna do. I try to steer clear of business involving fresh bodies.

Text from Verity: You’re not great at that.

Text from Jessica: I said try.

Text from Verity: Okay, well. I’m already here, so… Any tips?

Text from Jessica: Don’t puke.

* * *

It was hard not to puke.

“What am I looking at?” Verity said. “Other than… A body.”

“He seems to have been twisted in half,” Angela observed.

True. Verity winced.

“It’s _interesting_ , right?” Loki’s manic smile was maybe not totally appropriate for the venue, but Angela didn’t seem put off by it.

“Very, sister,” she said. “How was it done?”

“An excellent question, and one I’m hoping Verity will be able to help us with.”

Verity shook her head. “I haven’t had any forensic training. At all. I’m not even actually interested in forensics.”

Loki paced around the body, hands clasped behind her back. “Ah, but what we have here is not just a corpse - it’s also a story. And you’re excellent at finding the truth in stories.”

Hm. “I don’t know if that will work. I can tell if someone is lying, and I can tell if something isn’t real, but if a person really believes their lies that feels like truth to me.”

“I don’t believe anything,” Angela offered.

“Well,” Verity started to say, but Loki stopped her with a raised hand.

“No, no, she’s right, if inaccurate in her phrasing. Angela has no stake in this - she doesn’t have any reason to favor one potential interpretation of the facts over any other. And she doesn’t know what happened, so she can’t even know if she’s telling you the truth about it or not until you tell us!”

“Um.” Verity paused. _Would_ that work? It was strange to realize it, but she’d never actually tested her power that much. It was a burden she had to bear, this thing that kept her from enjoying the things other people did, made it almost impossible to have friends… She knew when people were lying, the end. No reason to go further.

“He died of natural causes,” Angela said.

Lie.

“But you know that’s not true,” Verity pointed out.

Angela frowned. “He was twisted in half manually, by one very strong or very large individual.”

Lie…

“I’m not sure if that-- See, if _I_ had said that, I’d be lying, because I wouldn’t think that was possible. Like, before I met Loki, I mean.”

“Oh, it’s possible,” Loki said. “My bio dad could do it in his sleep. And Angela knows that it could be done.”

Ugh. True, true, true.

“His lower body was restrained, and the upper half twisted off by some means,” Angela said.

Lie. Verity shook her head.

“His upper body was restrained, and the lower half twisted off by some means.”

True.

“Holy shit. It works,” Verity said. Jessica was going to love this. “Tell me he was killed by someone he knew well.”

Angela repeated it. It was a lie, but they eventually worked out that the victim had been killed by someone he’d met at least once, who he hadn’t regarded as a threat and also that the killer was Vanir. 

“So that rules you out,” Verity told Loki. 

Loki sniffed. “I was ruled out the second I told you I didn’t do it,” she said petulantly. 

Angela stood up. “This has become less interesting, and my contracted time has ended,” she said. “Farewell, sister. Farewell, Verity Willis. Meeting you was the pleasure Loki promised.”

“It was nice to meet you too,” Verity said automatically, and then realised it was true. Angela was deeply weird, but fun company. 

“So, next steps?” Loki said, looking completely unashamed about the fact that she’d obviously arranged a meeting between Angela and Verity under the guise of coincidence. 

Verity made a face at her, but answered the question. “Jessica would say do some research on the victim - but the Vanir don’t really have social media accounts and stuff, right? - and then start interviewing everyone you can get a hold of who might possibly know something.”

“That sounds tedious.”

“It goes a little faster when I’m there,” Verity said. “But only if I know the right questions to ask - Jessica has enough experience to know what those are going to be.”

Loki cocked her head. “‘Did you do it?’ ought to cover the necessary ground, no?”

“That’s not usually what breaks the case. You’re not going to get lucky just asking every one of potentially hundreds of people that. You have to build up a picture of what happened from a bunch of interviews to find the important intersections.”

“Back to stories, excellent,” Loki said. “Shall we go hear some?”

“No,” Verity said. “I’m mortal, and I’d already finished a long day when you came and got me. I need to rest.”

Loki made a face. “This place doesn’t really have adequate accommodation for hire.”

“I don’t need a five-star hotel,” Verity said, although plush linens and artisanal room service cocktails did sound appealing. “I need a _bed_.

“Hm,” Loki said, and became a unicorn again. This time she was a mare unicorn, which Verity found hilarious for strange and probably exhaustion-related reasons. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Ten minutes later they were making camp in the middle of a field, while unfamiliar stars blazed down from a dark blue velvet sky and the scents of night-blooming flowers drifted by on the warm breeze.

“I said bed, not a bed-roll,” Verity mumbled, but if Loki said anything in response, she was asleep before she heard it.

* * *

They started the interviews the next morning. Vanaheim wasn’t without a police force of its own, but they mostly focused on keeping public order and occasionally conducting very small wars - or that’s what Loki said, and she wasn’t quite lying. Most of the murders they investigated were pretty open and shut crime of passion type things. A lot of times the killer was the one who actually reported the murder. But they did have a standard protocol for witness interviews, so Verity had those for a starting point.

She also had a representative from the police force, a Vanir man almost as wide as he was tall, with forearms like slabs of beef. His name was Hulder, and his reaction to the presence of a Midgardian on his case was… Not encouraging.

“Vanaheim’s crimes are the concern of the Vanir,” he growled, sounding like every grouchy police captain in the movies when the FBI turned up.

“Vanaheim’s crimes have implicated me,” Loki pointed out sweetly. “I’m distraught.”

The last statement was a lie so obvious that even Hulder rolled his eyes.

“I also have the right to nominate a deputy to aid me in my quest to clear my name,” she added. “I nominate Verity Willis of Midgard.” She considered this for a moment. “So there.”

Hulder scowled, but didn’t protest further. 

They started with the last person to see the victim alive, a cider-brewer who’d bought apples from him.

“Did you like the victim?” Verity asked.

The woman snorted. “No one liked him. He had a monopoly on the Ithun’s Kiss varietal, though, so we had to deal with him.” She hesitated, clearly uncertain how much a Midgardian education prepared one for complex concepts. “A monopoly is when--”

“She’s got it, thank you!” Loki said, and then spoiled it by adding, “Ithun’s Kiss makes good cider.”

“So he gave you bad supplies?”

“Hah! Every bad year, half of them wormy and half the rest rotten.” She was exaggerating, but not by much. “And if you complained, the prices didn’t go down, oh no. He was a twisted man.”

Verity got a sudden full-body memory of the victim’s twisted torso, and had to focus hard on keeping her breakfast Clif bar in her stomach. “Did you kill him?”

“No,” the woman said, and spat on the ground. “But blessings on the hand of the one who did.” She looked curiously at Loki. “Was it you, Goddess of Lies?”

“Goddess of Stories,” Loki said. “And no. My name has been maligned, rumours of my perfidy have been greatly exaggerated, etcetera, etcetera.”

It went on like that. Most of the interviewees were business contacts - the victim didn’t seem to have had much in the way of actual friends. Most of them clearly thought Loki had committed the murder, and none of them seemed that sad about it.

“I thought you said these murders had disturbed the community,” Verity said, between interviews.

“That’s what I was told,” Loki said. She looked at Hulder. “How many were there, again?”

“Four so far,” Hulder said. “There was Fulda the fish seller -”

“- stuffed into a barrel of rancid offal -” Loki said.

“- Dothildr the bard -”

“Oh, the one who used to passive-aggressively mock her audiences? Swallowing her tongue must have been a novel sensation for her.”

“- and Adils the teacher.”

“Ah, yes,” Loki said. “He was the one artfully flayed by his own birch switch, was he not? The children were upset, I suppose.”

“His students found the body?” Verity said, her voice climbing.

“Yes,” Hulder said, looking uncomfortable. “As far as we can tell, the murderer intended the body to be found by his wife when she came looking for him, but… She didn’t. The students found him the next morning.”

“I need to talk to the wife,” Verity said, but her hopes for an easy win were dashed when Adil’s wife said she hadn’t killed him, she didn’t know who had killed him, and that if he’d taken that switch to her one more time she would have done the deed herself and proclaimed it from the market square. 

“I’m only sorry that the children had to see him,” she said. “We had hoped to protect them from such things, since the Asgardian peace.” Hulder winced again.

The Vanir woman patted Verity’s hand. “I am pleased that you have escaped Gilead,” she said, and then Verity had to explain dystopias again.

Hulder unbent a little during the ensuing discussion about genre categories, but that didn’t extend to allowing Verity to talk to the kids. Loki argued that all of the “children” were much older than Verity herself, but this unfortunately led to the revelation that Verity hadn’t even seen three decades yet.

“You think a Midgardian infant can solve this?” Hulder bellowed.

“Yes,” Loki said, and the absolute truth of that was kind of comforting.

But it was still hard to sleep that evening. Her phone had lost some battery power, but not as much as she’d expected. Possibly it was feeding off Vanaheim’s ambient energy; weirder things could happen, and did all the time.

Text from Verity: How many serial killer cases have you handled?

Text from Jessica: More than I’d like.

Text from Verity: This one feels weird.

Text from Jessica: Weird how? bbl, preschool run.

So it was morning in Midgard. Since Jessica didn’t touch her phone when her daughter was in the car, it’d be a while before she got a response. Verity typed her questions and tucked the phone back into her magical tunic pocket.

“The thing is,” she said out loud, “the majority of serial killers - at least, on Earth - don’t really act like this.”

“Mmm,” Loki said. Verity wasn’t sure she was actually awake.

“They usually kill the same kinds of people… Not just, ‘people who were mean’ or something, but _really_ specific. Only mean people who are in a certain age range and have other stuff in common, like ethnicity, or hair colour.”

“Mmhmm,” Loki said.

“And they don’t switch methods every single time either. Serial killers have, like, a compulsive need to create a specific crime, and they circle around the same thing over and over. All this theatrical stuff is so…” Verity sat up abruptly. “Loki, what’s the worst thing about Vanaheim?”

“It’s so bloody _boring_ ,” Loki said sleepily.

True.

“And a lot of the Vanir really like Midgardian TV, right?”

Loki’s eyes snapped open, and she sat up too. “No! Really?”

“I think maybe yes.”

Loki stared at her, mouth agape. Then her eyes narrowed with purpose. “The killer is _so bored_ they’re creating their own version of a crime drama.”

_True_.

“Where does Hulder live?” Verity said, rolling to her feet. “We’d better let him know about this right away.”

Loki’s outline blurred. “I’ll sniff him out,” he declared.

Verity blinked. “As a fox?”

“What would you expect?”

“Well, I wasn’t thinking canine at all. But if you were going that way... A bloodhound, I guess?”

Loki’s tail lashed. “A _dog_? Verity, I can’t be a dog. Dogs aren’t _me_.”

“I can see that. Loyal, friendly, dedicated…”

“...Inferior to foxes in every way.” He smiled, in a way that involved a lot of sharp white teeth; all fox and yet distinctly Loki. The long grass barely rustled in his wake.

Hulder lived outside the village proper, in a cottage with sweet-smelling pink flowers growing profusely along the walls. He was not happy to be woken.

“This is important,” Verity said, and moved forward so that he’d either have to get out of the way, or she’d walk right into him. Granted, this would affect him about as much as a falling leaf, but personal space protocols kicked in and he moved. “We’ve cracked the case. The killer is a bored Vanir trying to create a police drama.”

It still _sounded_ ridiculous. But it was still entirely true.

Hulder stared at her, and then at Loki, who shook back into human-ish male form and let the front door fall closed behind him. “ _She_ stumbled upon this idea?” he asked.

Loki smiled at him, teeth still fox-like. “She did! So now all you have to do is compile a list of known crime drama fans who had access to all four of the victims, and Verity will ask them if they did it, and boom! Killer caught, name cleared, Verity gets a special prize of some kind.” He pursed his lips. “Maybe a fountain.”

“I don’t want a fountain,” Verity said, “I just want to-- What’s wrong?”

Loki’s smile had abruptly disappeared. He’d blanched even paler than usual, which was saying something. “My mother is here.”

“Freyja?”

“Yes. I have alert spells in every realm except Asgard, so that-- Never mind, the mechanics don’t matter. I need to go and see what trickery she’s preparing this time.”

“The All-Mother’s presence is an honour!” Hulder exclaimed.

“Maybe if you haven’t stabbed her recently,” Loki muttered. “Verity, stay here. I’ll be back soon.”

“But… Right now?” Verity asked. “We broke the case. We’re clearing your name!”

“This is actually important,” Loki said, and disappeared.

“He didn’t stab her _that_ recently,” Verity said into the awkward silence that followed. _Actually important_? Ouch. “But, um. The killer...”

“Your theory is ludicrous,” Hulder said.

Lie, Verity registered absently, and then her stomach froze.

She wasn’t picking up any nuance. He didn’t hope she was wrong, but secretly believe she was right. He wasn’t uncertain, but clinging to the idea that she was fallible. He _knew_ it was a lie. 

He knew that her theory wasn’t ludicrous. He _knew_ she was right.

And there was only one reasonable explanation for that.

The door was miles away. “Well,” she said, as casually as she could. “I’ve always wanted to meet Freyja, so maybe--”

“You stay there,” Hulder said. He shifted his weight and shook his shoulders, like a dog settling into place. God, he was huge. “I was improving Vanaheim, that’s all. Those people were blights. Cankerous sores.”

“Mm-hmm,” Verity said brightly.

“And there was no reason not to make it entertaining,” he went on, half to himself. “It does get dull, mediating disputes over whose grandfather owned which field. I thought implicating the trickster would make things interesting.” 

“Oh, Hulder. No. This is so sad,” Verity said. She started edging backward, wondering if she could reach the door before he did, or if anyone outside was close enough to hear her if she screamed.

“It was _working_!” he snarled. “And then you came!”

Verity turned and sprinted for the door. “Help! Someone! Hel--”

Hulder cut her screaming off with one hand over her mouth, and pinned her arms down with the other. Verity jerked and kicked, but he would have outmatched her by size alone even without Vanir strength. When she tried biting down on his palm he squeezed her jaw before she could sink her teeth in, forcing her mouth back open.

“Quiet, now,” he muttered in her ear. “You be quiet.”

_Like hell I will_ , Verity thought. She slammed the heels of her boots against his shins with all her strength. She made claws with her hands and scratched anything she could reach. But it didn’t work. He held her tight, tighter, so tight she couldn’t breathe.

She couldn’t breathe.

She couldn’t--


	3. Chapter Two: Embedded Images

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic includes text messages integral to the narrative. Chapter one contains embedded images of the messages. Chapter two is text-only. The content is the same. Chapter three is the second chapter of the story with embedded images, and chapter four is the second chapter, text-only.

Verity woke with a headache and the dreamlike impression that the world was swaying, and that she was both floating and heavy at once. She blinked her eyes open. Fabric. A sweaty, old-timey-style tunic, tucked into a leather belt, pulled tight over the muscular back of the _murdering asshole_ who was carrying her over his shoulder like a bag of laundry.

Not great news. But it could be worse. She could be dead already. That she wasn’t sort of implied that Hulder wanted to keep her alive, right? Though, maybe he just wanted to transport her somewhere more convenient for murdering purposes. Maybe somewhere more poetic.

 _Fuck that_ , Verity thought, and then she twisted around to elbow Hulder in the back of the head and followed it up immediately with a kick to the groin, hoping it would be enough to make him drop her so she could run for help.

It sort of worked. Hulder didn’t so much drop as throw her, and Verity only narrowly managed not to land on her head. The impact knocked the breath out of her, and Hulder pressed one knee on her chest before she could inhale. Everything went dark and blurry, and Hulder was muttering angrily, and then--

Verity woke with a headache and numb hands. Hulder had tied her hands - well, more like her wrists and forearms - together with his belt. She couldn’t be sure without moving her legs, but a dull pressure through her boots made her think her ankles were probably tied, too. She was hanging over his shoulder again. She kept her eyes closed, and tried not to twitch. She needed a new plan.

Hulder grunted something, and she felt him dip, as if he were crouching. They went along that way for a while, and then he straightened with an energetic heave. The effort bounced her on his shoulder, knocking the breath out of her lungs.

“Ah,” he said. “You’re awake.” He swung her up and around - she gasped and swallowed at the dizzy rush in her head - and sat her against a wall, legs out in front.

Verity cracked her eyes open. Oh, just hell. They were in a cave, or maybe an underground ruin of some kind. The walls weren’t entirely regular, but they were carved with runes and sigils that didn’t make any sense to her. Hulder was squatting in front of her with a glowing orb thing in his hand, looking at her expectantly.

“Are you going to kill me?” Verity asked. Her voice was hoarse. She coughed.

“Drink this,” Hulder said, and held a waterskin to her mouth. 

She drank. He hadn’t answered her question. That wasn’t a good sign.

“You only killed bad people,” she said, her voice clearer. “You know I’m not a bad person, Hulder.”

“That’s yet to be seen. You consort with Loki, after all.”

“We’re _friends_.”

He snorted. “I need to think,” he said, almost to himself. “I need a plan...”

So did Verity. Fortunately, she’d come up with one.

“I need to pee,” she said. “You know? Urinate?” She nodded at her bound legs. “I can’t really--”

Hulder rolled his eyes. “I trust you have learned the futility of escape attempts by now.”

She nodded, hoping she looked properly meek. 

“Very well,” he said, and drew - oh god, an enormous sword. Verity held her breath, but he only sliced through the leg bindings before sheathing the blade again. He picked her up and dropped her on her feet. She wobbled, leaning against the cave wall, as pins and needles prickled from ankles to knees.

“Um, could you--” she tried, nodding at the belt around her arms, but he only snorted. Verity thought about asking him to turn away, but that might be pushing her luck too. Instead, she faced the cave wall and began groping at the waistband of her leggings, trying to hook her thumbs over it.

There was an embarrassed pause behind her, and then the shuffle of feet moving.

Verity yanked the leggings down her thighs, for verisimilitude, crouched, and slid her hands into the pocket that wasn’t there.

Her fingers hit the smooth glass front of her phone, and she could have cried from sheer relief.

She almost dropped the phone getting it out of her pocket, but she managed to keep a grip on it and get it turned on, putting in her passcode clumsily with the side of one thumb. She’d set it to silent in preparation for going to bed, thankfully, so there were no beeps or clicks to give her away, but she’d have to be fast - Hulder could look over and see the light from the screen at any moment.

The text window with Jessica was still open.

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/163559337@N08/44527120491/in/dateposted-public/)

_Fuck_.

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/163559337@N08/42718401300/in/dateposted-public/)

Verity swallowed hard. Okay, okay. She might get out of this yet. Jessica was going to try to call in some kind of cavalry. But it might not be fast enough. Verity took a breath and painstakingly navigated to another conversation.

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/163559337@N08/44527120171/in/dateposted-public/)

Shit. What if Loki didn’t make it in time? What if-- What if that was the last thing she ever said to him?

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/163559337@N08/44527120051/in/dateposted-public/)

Should she say something else? Oh God, what about her mom? Did she have time to text--

“Hey!” Hulder’s hand came down on her shoulder. He yanked her up, spinning her around, and snatched the phone out of her hands. “Give me that!”

He threw it to the ground, then stepped on it when it didn’t shatter into a hundred dramatic pieces.

“Too late,” Verity said. She hiked her leggings back up, feeling way, _way_ too exposed. Her heart was thumping against her ribs. “You really should have wondered where my phone was sooner.”

Hulder sneered, and pressed down with his boot heel until her phone made a sad little crunching sound. “Pathetic, to cling to toys like that. You really are an infant.”

“I’m a _millennial_ , you bag of dicks!”

“You haven’t even reached three decades!”

Verity laughed as scornfully as she could. “Did you really watch all those shows and never understand them?”

Someone else was laughing. Hulder’s angry face paled. The laughter got louder, closer, and suddenly the cave was full of Loki, plural. There were at least a dozen of him, crowded into the small space and filling it with noise and confusion. Hulder drew his sword and ran one of them through, but the illusion dissolved around the blade.

The urge to just collapse onto the floor and cry until the rescue was all over was pretty strong, but Verity fought it. The last thing she wanted was to get accidentally stabbed after everything she’d been through. She pressed back against the cave wall, and then had to bite her tongue to keep in a scream when the wall wrapped its arms around her.

“Shh,” Loki whispered. “Hold still.”

“Missed me!” another Loki called out.

Hulder pivoted toward that one, and the Loki behind her - the real one, obviously - cut the belt off her wrists, then pressed Lorelei’s amulet of invisibility into her hands. His hands appeared as hers vanished, and he pointed emphatically toward the entrance of the cave with the one that wasn’t holding a great big knife.

As though Verity was going to do anything other than get the hell out. She shuffled sideways toward the opening, staying as close to the wall as she could.

“But really, Hulder,” a Loki said. “What were you thinking?”

“Nothing,” another one said. “Obviously.”

“Why implicate me?” the real Loki asked. He had moved in front of Verity and was keeping pace with her, staying between her and Hulder. “Did you think that would hurt me, somehow?”

Three of them started laughing again.

“Or did you want my attention?” another said. Hulder swung at that one, and when it dissolved the one behind him kept talking. “I almost didn’t even bother, you know.”

“My reputation is just terrible already,” a Loki by the entrance said. “Ask anyone.”

“It wasn’t-- That’s not why. I was doing a good thing!” Hulder said. He sliced through another Loki, spinning around before it had even vanished, looking frantically around the cave. “It wasn’t about you.”

“Oh, well, if you say so,” one of the remaining false Lokis said. “I suppose it doesn’t really matter.”

“ _You_ don’t matter,” the real one said.

Hulder closed his eyes. His head tilted, as if he were listening for something, the tip of his sword dipped in defeat. Verity breathed a sigh of relief, then gasped as his eyes snapped back open and he looked right at her. “But she does,” he said, and lunged.

The extra Lokis vanished as the real one pushed Verity aside, stepping into Hulder’s path. He deflected the point of Hulder’s sword with his knife, and it sliced across his side instead of stabbing straight through him.

Hulder grinned, and moved smoothly into another strike, then kicked out at Loki’s wrist when he dodged. The knife went flying. Loki took a step back, starting to draw a sword from wherever it was that he got things, but couldn’t bring it to bear in time to entirely deflect Hulder’s next blow. The blade caught him in the shoulder, and he staggered and cried out.

“No more laughter?” Hulder taunted.

Loki pressed his hand to his shoulder. Blood ran down his arm, dripping onto the ground. “Give it a minute,” he said.

Hulder frowned. “What?”

And then Angela’s sword took Hulder’s hand off.

“Hah!” Loki said. He sat down abruptly. “Oh, Hel. What took you so long?”

Angela shrugged. “Mother. You know what she’s like.”

“None better,” Loki said. 

“My hand,” Hulder croaked. He sank to his knees, clutching his gory wrist.

“Yes, I know,” Loki said, sympathetically. “It’s really lacking in irony. But don’t hold it against my sister - she’s a very practical person.”

Verity stared at him. Sometimes she forgot that he was literally not human, but other times… Wow.

Loki shrugged, winced, and pulled some sealed plastic packages out of nowhere, tossing one to Angela and handing the other to Verity. They had writing in several languages on them, along with helpful pictures to explain what a “pressure dressing” was for.

“My hand!” Hulder said again. And then he screamed as Angela started binding his wound, and Verity turned her back on him and focused on Loki’s shoulder.

“Do you have some scissors? I think I’m going to have to cut your coat off.”

Loki made a sad face, but conjured a pair of tailor’s shears. “Be careful. I think I can probably sew it back together if you don’t mangle it too much.”

“For fuck’s sake, Loki. It’s a coat.” Verity started snipping, not all that carefully. “It’s not, like, _your arm_ I’m cutting off.”

“Oh!” Loki said. “The long arm of the law! Yes, that works. It _is_ ironic.” He grinned, obviously well pleased with himself.

“It’s not funny,” Verity said. She slapped the dressing into place.

Loki’s grin faded. “It’s a little funny?”

“You, you _asshole_!” Verity shouted. “I could have died! You could have died! And all because, what? You were _bored_? Are you going to start creatively murdering people next? What makes you better than him?”

“It wasn’t--” Loki stopped himself, clenching his jaw and sighing through his nose. “It’s not--”

Verity hit him. She knew it couldn’t have hurt much. Certainly not enough to shut him up, but Loki stopped talking and waited patiently while she hammered his uninjured shoulder with her fists.

“You said it wasn’t important,” she said, and hit him in the ribs for variety. He grunted a little at that, and she did it again. “You _said_ that. Is that what I’m worth to you? Amusement?”

“I didn’t say that,” Loki said calmly.

“Don’t _lie_ to me!” Verity screamed. And then she had to stop hitting him, so she could wipe tears off her face.

“I’m not. Verity. You know I’m not lying. I can’t have said that, because I would never say that you’re unimportant, or, or an _amusement_.” He paused. “I might, maybe, possibly have said that clearing my name wasn’t important.”

Verity took a couple of shaky breaths. He was right. He wasn’t lying. He didn’t lie to her.

But he did sometimes skirt the truth. And it was just like assisting Jessica - knowing when someone was lying wasn’t enough, if you didn’t know what question to ask.

Oh, shit. Jessica.

“We’re not done with this,” Verity said. She punched Loki one last time, for emphasis. “But I just remembered that it’s possible that the Avengers are on their way to Vanaheim, and I really need to borrow your phone.”

“Before that, brother, you must fulfil your part of our bargain,” Angela said.

Loki looked at her for a long moment. “Yes,” he said.

Angela nodded.

“What bargain?” Verity demanded.

“Angela wanted the answer to a question in return for her aid,” Loki said flatly. “She got it.”

“What was--”

“I’m not going to tell you.” He handed her his phone. “Call off the calvary, would you? We don’t need any more muscle-bound meatheads crowding up the place.”

“Ms Marvel’s not muscle-bound,” Verity said. “Hey, why do you have Jessica’s number in your contacts?”

“Aren’t you glad I do?”

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/163559337@N08/44527120331/in/dateposted-public/)

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/163559337@N08/44527120221/in/dateposted-public/)

Verity looked up. “It’s okay.”

“Excellent,” Loki said. “Well, let’s deliver this miscreant to his colleagues, and then you and I can see about something more relaxing. Perhaps a sailing trip? There are some lovely lakes on the east continent.”

“No,” Angela said.

“You weren’t invited,” Loki said, and then his eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, no?”

“Mother wants to see Verity,” Angela said. “She made a deal with me.”

Loki stiffened. “Well, sister, perhaps we can talk about--”

“No,” Angela said, and held his gaze. “Fight me if you will, brother. But I must fulfil this bargain, as I fulfilled yours. I am who I am.”

“Oh, me too,” Loki said, bowing gracefully, and when he straightened he was holding two daggers, glittering with green sparks. “Verity, run.”

“Whoa,” Verity said, as Angela drew her sword. “Wait, wait, don’t fight! I’ll go see your mom. I mean… Angela, does she plan to hurt me?”

“She promises safe passage,” Angela said. Her sword was steady. “She says she wishes to congratulate the woman who found out the murderer.”

“ _Verity_ ,” Loki said. “You don’t understand. My mother is-- she’s got something up her sleeve! This is definitely some kind of trick, and until we know what it is, you shouldn’t--”

“ _You_ shouldn’t lecture me on tricks,” Verity said, and glared at him until he looked away. “Angela. Let’s go.”

“Obviously, I’m coming too.”

“You weren’t invited,” Angela said, and pulled something white and glowing out of her belt pouch. Verity felt magic clutch at her, and had just time to see Loki’s face go pale before they disappeared.

* * *

They rematerialised in the courtyard of a giant citadel, because Freyja was holding court in one of the ruins of Vanaheim. Verity could understand some of Loki’s disbelief that the Vanir had abandoned these constructions. The throne room alone was about the size of Grand Central Station, vaulted like a cathedral in grey stone.

There was a huge crowd gathered to greet Freyja - many more people than could have fit in the one village Verity had seen. Angela pushed through them with no concern, and those who might have been inclined to push back fell away when Freyja raised her arm and called, “Well met, daughter!”

“Mother,” Angela said, and stepped so that Verity was suddenly standing beside her, not just following meekly along. “As bargained, I bring to you Verity Willis, a wise woman of Midgard.”

Aw. Angela thought that was true.

Freyja smiled at Verity, and Verity’s hair rose along her spine. Freyja was tall and icy-blonde, and there was absolutely no friendliness in her eyes. “Vanir! I beg your pardon and request your absence, for I must speak alone with this daughter of Midgard.” Her voice dropped, so that only Verity and Angela could hear it. “I’ve so much to say to my son’s companion.” 

It was just a few words, and they were relatively mild, but the tone in which they were delivered made Verity’s flesh creep. Freyja wasn’t like Loki, or his brother, or Sigurd, or Lorelei. They’d all lived on Midgard long enough that they’d picked up the knack of seeming human, unless they chose not to. Freyja was a goddess, and didn’t choose to appear as anything else. Her presence had an almost tangible force, and that force wanted Verity on her knees or on her face, grovelling before the power of Asgard’s queen.

The throne room was almost empty now. Angela looked at Verity for a long moment, and began to turn away.

“Angela,” Verity said hastily. “If you stay with me until the audience is done, I’ll give you. Um. My earrings.” Was that an insulting offer? They weren’t even real silver - just little silver-plated leaf studs that she’d bought because they went with her tattoos. 

“I accept,” Angela said, promptly coming back to her side.

Freyja arched a pale eyebrow. “As you will, daughter,” she said. Her eyes rested on Verity. “So. You caught the murderer.”

“Yes,” Verity said. Yes, ma’am? Yes, your majesty? What was the proper form of address? Freyja hadn’t given her any title, so maybe it was better to be rude than clueless. “Actually, Loki and Angela caught him. I just figured out who he was.”

“Ah,” Freyja said, and tapped her fingers against the stone arm of her chair. “Do you often allow others to do the bloodier work?”

Verity blinked. “I’m not really trained for it.”

“Then perhaps you should avoid the field?” Freyja leaned forward, suddenly motherly. “Mortals are so fragile.”

“Yeah,” Verity said. “I just had a pretty good reminder of that.” She rubbed self-consciously at her chest, where an enormous bruise was developing, thanks to Hulder’s great big knee. She probably had bruises all over her face and neck, too. “Thanks for your concern.”

Freyja’s voice acquired an extra layer of ice. “You don’t sound particularly grateful.”

Oh, what the hell. “I’m not,” Verity said bluntly. “I’ve been awake all day and night, apart from the bits where I was choked out and unconscious. I haven’t had a shower in days, I got beaten up by a giant asshole, I had a fight with my best friend, and now you’ve hauled me here to do what? Tell me I’m weak? I knew that already. What is it you actually want?” 

Freyja looked directly at her. “I want you to stay away from my son.”

“Actually, you don’t,” Verity said. “That was a straight-up lie. Are you testing me? Is this a test?”

Freyja leaned back in her throne and said nothing.

“Wow,” Verity said. “Okay, lady. You do you.”

“You should be more afraid of the gods, mortal.”

True, but Verity couldn’t quite smother a laugh. “I definitely should. But Victor Von Doom owes me a favor, I hang out _all the time_ with interplanetary con-men and mercenaries, and I survived the actual end of the universe. More than one universe. Reading a novel used to be the worst thing I could imagine, but now…” She shrugged. “I care about Loki. You can’t scare me away. I’m not sure anyone can.”

“Loki can,” Freyja said, sounding very tired. “Eventually, he probably will. It is his nature. We are not _like_ you, Verity Willis. You mortals are so very changeable. You become a dozen people over the brief span of your mayfly lives. It is exhausting. If he tires of you, he will make certain that you run.”

That was true, but… “Loki’s been at least four people since our first meeting.”

“Whatever the form, Loki is always Loki,” Freyja said, as if it were a curse.

“Wait,” Verity said, and felt the revelation explode behind her eyes. “Not necessarily. Loki changed when he was a kid. He’s _capable_ of change. You said ‘probably’ and ‘if,’ not ‘certainly’ and ‘when.’ Stories change. Stories _are_ change.”

Freyja’s eyes glittered.

“And you… Do you _want_ Loki’s changes to stick? Oh my god, you’re trying to see if I’m a good role model! Like Loki’s asking if he can come to my sleepover and you have to make sure I’m not a bad influence! You are, aren’t you?”

“I will neither confirm nor deny your suspicions, Verity Willis.” Freyja leaned forward. “But consider this. You are mortal. You will die, perhaps tomorrow, perhaps in sixty or seventy of your Midgard years. This doubtless seems like a long time to you, but to us - to my children - it is but a miserly portion of a vast hoard. Unfortunately, the depth of our feelings has little to do with the longevity of our companions. If Loki still cares for you when you are taken from him, you will be mourned, and the mourning will be terrible, and it will last much, much longer than your life.”

It was all true. Verity swallowed hard. “I get it,” she said.

“Really? I doubt you are capable of even imagining a grief that lasts for centuries - or the disasters my tempestuous son might precipitate in his bereavement.” Freyja tapped her long finger against her chin. “Your bravado is entertaining, I suppose. But it will die with you, and Loki will pay the price of it. Does _that_ scare you?”

Verity’s throat was burning. She locked her hands behind her back to stop their shaking and kept her mouth shut.

Freyja looked satisfied.

“I did not know you regarded mortal timespans so,” Angela said. She’d been so quiet Verity had almost forgotten her presence, but her voice echoed through the high-ceilinged hall.

Freyja actually flinched. “Your situation is a different matter,” she said. “I will find a solution.”

There was something going on there, but Verity was concentrating on not crying. A little worm of doubt had wriggled into her brain, as Freyja had doubtless intended. Was she being selfish? Would it be better to cut ties with Loki, or at least step back a little?

No. No, that was Freyja’s trickery. She _liked_ Loki, and he liked her, and everyone else could just butt out, queen and mother and goddess alike. 

“Well,” Freyja said. “I think you have done quite enough on Vanaheim, Verity Willis. I will send you back where you belong, and long may you stay there.” She raised her hand, sparking with white light. Verity braced herself.

“Mother,” Angela said, tone straying towards disapproval. “Verity has done Vanaheim a great service. It is not a fair trade to send her home with no acknowledgement or reward.”

Freyja paused. “Aldrif--”

“Angela, Mother.”

Freyja sighed. “Would this please you, daughter?”

“It would.”

Freyja lowered her hand and glared at Verity. Verity lifted her chin and glared back. 

“Very well,” Freyja said, and smiled at her daughter. The smile looked genuine, in a way the glare hadn’t. “For your sake, my Angela, and because you are, after all, correct. Call in the Vanir.”

* * *

The Vanir came in a lot faster than they’d left, either because they were curious or because waiting outside was boring. Freyja had placed Verity beside her throne, facing the throng, so that she had to stand there and feel everyone’s eyes on her. Verity gritted her teeth, plastered on a smile, and watched for a familiar form in green and gold.

He wasn’t there.

Freyja waited, a long leisurely moment, and then stood to stand beside Verity.

The Vanir murmured, the rustle of voices growing as Freyja placed her hand on Verity’s shoulder.

“Hear me, Vanir” she said, and her voice was clear throughout the chamber. “Be it known that in return for her valiant deeds, the Midgardian Verity Willis, henceforth deemed Truth-Seer, shall have free passage and warm welcome throughout Vanaheim. An she harm none and it harm ye not, feed her, shelter her, and protect her, for she is a friend and ally to our people.” Freyja tightened her grip on Verity’s shoulder and leaned in, smiling beatifically. “Now get out,” she said, voice low.

“My pleasure,” Verity said, through her own forced smile. There was a commotion at the back of the room as the Vanir jumped and dodged, and she had a good idea of the cause.

The fox hurtled through the last ranks of the massed people, bared its teeth at Angela, and shimmered into Loki, kneeling, head bowed. “Mother--” he began.

Freyja let Verity go. “Take her. We’re done.”

Loki raised his head. There was nothing humble about the look in his eyes. “And have you nothing to say to me?”

Verity held her breath.

“No,” Freyja said, cool and thoughtful. “Not at this time.” She looked away from them, to the people waiting. “Elud of Vanaheim, what petition do you make?”

Loki bounced to his feet, grabbed Verity by the wrist, and hustled her out.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

Verity grimaced. “I want to go home.”

“Well, I thought we could--”

“No, Loki! No more bright ideas!” Tears were prickling at the back of her eyes again. “I want to go _home_.”

To her immense relief, he nodded. “We’ll have to travel a little way to get to a proper portal point,” he said. “Do you want to ride the unicorn?”

“No,” Verity said, and wrenched her arm free. “I think I’d rather walk.”

They walked. Vanaheim was still blissfully beautiful, its warm breezes still scented with flowers and sweet, growing things, its fields still green. It wasn’t nearly as relaxing as it could have been.

“I’m sorry,” Loki said, after a long while. “I didn’t know she’d be here.”

It was true. Whenever he apologized to her he meant it. That didn’t always help. 

“If you didn’t care about clearing your name - which, by the way, is a stupid attitude - why did you try to do it? Why drag me out here?”

He avoided her eyes. “I thought it would be fun.”

Verity stopped. “So, yeah, that sounds a lot like you wanted me to entertain you.”

“I didn’t want you to entertain me,” Loki said. “I wanted your _company_. There was the whole business with the Sorcerer Supreme, and then Ron’s murder case and that stupid election, and then you started classes and working with Jessica Jones. And that’s good! I’m glad that makes you happy! I want you to be happy! But I never see you anymore and--”

Verity blinked. “You miss me.”

Loki inspected his nails. “Perhaps.”

“Idiot,” Verity said, and smacked his shoulder. She was feeling much more cheerful. “Why didn’t you just say that? I miss you too.”

“Oh,” Loki said. “Well. All right. So I used the murders as an excuse to take you away for a while. I thought it would be a nice break. We’d go glamping in idyllic surrounds while we reconnected and refreshed!” 

Verity thought this revealed a lot about Loki’s addiction to lifestyle blogs and also a lot about how skewed your world-view had to be to think “dramatic murders” could be any part of a vacation. 

“I guess you couldn’t expect me to be kidnapped,” she allowed.

“Or Hulder to stab me. Or my _mother_.” He shuddered, and it wasn’t entirely feigned.

“Yeah,” Verity said. “I didn’t think that talking to your mom would be the scariest thing on that list, and yet...”

“What did she say to you?”

“What question did Angela ask?”

“Hah,” Loki said, and rubbed his stubbled chin. “Are we… good?”

“ _Mostly_ good,” Verity said. “But next time you want to have a weekend away, just say that. We’ll go apple-picking upstate or something.” On second thought, probably not apple-picking. She’d had enough of rural life for a while. “Maybe we can schedule a weekly get together or something. Arrange time for each other.”

Loki smiled winningly and hid his hands behind his back. “That sounds lovely. Now, before I take you home, I got you a surprise.”

Verity frowned. “Am I going to like this surprise?”

Loki waggled his eyebrows. “You’ll like it. Close your eyes.”

It was true, so she did, against all good sense. She felt Loki step closer, then his hands in her hair, and as he drew them away, a weight that hadn’t been there before, and something cool against her forehead.

“Let me conjure a mirror,” he muttered. “There. Now, take a look.”

Verity opened her eyes and looked at her reflection. She was wearing a… What was it? A mesh of thin silver chains, with loops that draped down over her hair that had tiny, sparkling green crystals hanging from them. It was like something out of a fantasy movie, or a Halloween costume, except that it looked and felt totally real - _true_ \- in a way those things never did. It was a circlet, or a diadem, or… “You got me a cool hat.”

“You earned it,” Loki said. He grinned. “It suits you. And maybe some day you’ll upgrade to some nifty little antlers, or _enormous_ wings or something.”

“No, this is perfect.” Verity tilted her head and looked at herself in profile. The little crystals winked in the light. “I love it. How much longer to the portal point?”

“Another league or two,” Loki said.

“How long is-- Never mind.” Verity adjusted her cool hat and smiled in the mirror. “If it’s okay, I’d like to ride the unicorn.”

Loki beamed.

* * *

“I can’t make it to wine-and-whine tomorrow,” Loki said, his voice sounding tinny through the phone speaker. There were weird pew-pew noises in the background which Verity decided not to ask about. “Is Thursday okay?”

Verity pulled her planner from her bag and flipped through the pages. “Yeah, Thursday’s fine. Seven?”

“Yes! I’m feeling like Mexican. Well, mostly I’m feeling like margaritas, but you can’t have margaritas without tacos. It’s the law.”

“Remember I’m a no on cilantro,” Verity warned. 

Loki’s response was lost in an explosion.

“Uh, everything okay over there?”

“Mild setback,” Loki said airily. “Nothing to worry about. Anyway, while I have you on the line-”

“Hang on, that’s my doorbell.” Verity picked up the phone and peered through the peephole.

A tall redhead stared impassively back at her.

“Uh. It’s your sister.”

“Which one?”

“Well, not the _baby_ , obviously. I’ve got to go.” Verity hung up, opened the door, and smiled weakly at Angela. “Hi.”

Angela was wearing a crisp white cotton shirt tucked into black skinny jeans and a red leather jacket. Verity suspected that she’d left piles of swooning women in her wake. “Hello, Verity Willis,” she said. “I propose a bargain.”

“Go ahead,” Verity said cautiously.

“In return for your company while we eat ice cream, I will purchase the ice cream.”

“Huh.” Verity thought it through. Angela’s stance didn’t change, but Verity had the impression that if she hadn’t been so highly trained, she’d be fidgeting. “That’s not a fair trade.”

Angela frowned.

“Because I’d be getting the pleasure of your company _and_ ice cream, and you’d only be getting my company. Why don’t we each pay for our own ice cream, and trade the company?”

Angela’s lips twitched. “That is acceptable.”

Verity grabbed her scarf and her keys. “I appreciate you standing up for me to Freyja last week.”

“No debt was incurred,” Angela said quickly, which Verity decided was probably how people in Heven said “you’re welcome”.

They started down the hall. Angela’s boots, which matched the deep scarlet of her jacket, clicked firmly against the wooden floor. She’d definitely been the cause of at least a dozen crushes that morning. “Hey, so, that question you asked Loki--”

“That information would cost you dearly,” Angela said, suddenly somehow a lot taller. “I advise against its purchase.”

“Okay,” Verity said. “So, chocolate or vanilla?”

“My beloved and I have less than seven years to live,” Angela said.

It was true. Verity stopped dead in the hall. Angela glanced at her, and kept walking, and after a second Verity scrambled to catch up.

“My mother is trying to find a solution, but I am not sure she can,” Angela said. “I do not fear dying. I have faced death many times, and never cared, except that death would mean defeat. I would trade eternity for a day with Sera, and count it a fair bargain. But we do not know _how_ to be mortal. I asked Loki, and she said--”

“Oh. That’s why she introduced us.”

“Yes.”

Verity thought about the Asgardians she knew: Freyja, cold and angry on her throne; Sigurd’s casual disregard for consequences; Lorelei’s impatient dismissal of plans gone awry. And Freyja’s concern for her children, and Sigurd’s irrepressible sense of humour, and Lorelei’s love of beauty. 

She thought about Loki: vicious and charming; restless and laughing; thoughtful and careless. And changing.

“I don’t think it’s that different,” she told Angela. “We’re just all doing our best to live the lives we think we should live. To be the people we think we should be.”

“Ah,” Angela said, and linked her arm through Verity’s. “That, I believe I can do.”


	4. Chapter Two: Text-Only

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic includes text messages integral to the narrative. Chapter one contains embedded images of the messages. Chapter two is text-only. The content is the same. Chapter three is the second chapter of the story with embedded images, and chapter four is the second chapter, text-only.

Verity woke with a headache and the dreamlike impression that the world was swaying, and that she was both floating and heavy at once. She blinked her eyes open. Fabric. A sweaty, old-timey-style tunic, tucked into a leather belt, pulled tight over the muscular back of the _murdering asshole_ who was carrying her over his shoulder like a bag of laundry.

Not great news. But it could be worse. She could be dead already. That she wasn’t sort of implied that Hulder wanted to keep her alive, right? Though, maybe he just wanted to transport her somewhere more convenient for murdering purposes. Maybe somewhere more poetic.

 _Fuck that_ , Verity thought, and then she twisted around to elbow Hulder in the back of the head and followed it up immediately with a kick to the groin, hoping it would be enough to make him drop her so she could run for help.

It sort of worked. Hulder didn’t so much drop as throw her, and Verity only narrowly managed not to land on her head. The impact knocked the breath out of her, and Hulder pressed one knee on her chest before she could inhale. Everything went dark and blurry, and Hulder was muttering angrily, and then--

Verity woke with a headache and numb hands. Hulder had tied her hands - well, more like her wrists and forearms - together with his belt. She couldn’t be sure without moving her legs, but a dull pressure through her boots made her think her ankles were probably tied, too. She was hanging over his shoulder again. She kept her eyes closed, and tried not to twitch. She needed a new plan.

Hulder grunted something, and she felt him dip, as if he were crouching. They went along that way for a while, and then he straightened with an energetic heave. The effort bounced her on his shoulder, knocking the breath out of her lungs.

“Ah,” he said. “You’re awake.” He swung her up and around - she gasped and swallowed at the dizzy rush in her head - and sat her against a wall, legs out in front.

Verity cracked her eyes open. Oh, just hell. They were in a cave, or maybe an underground ruin of some kind. The walls weren’t entirely regular, but they were carved with runes and sigils that didn’t make any sense to her. Hulder was squatting in front of her with a glowing orb thing in his hand, looking at her expectantly.

“Are you going to kill me?” Verity asked. Her voice was hoarse. She coughed.

“Drink this,” Hulder said, and held a waterskin to her mouth. 

She drank. He hadn’t answered her question. That wasn’t a good sign.

“You only killed bad people,” she said, her voice clearer. “You know I’m not a bad person, Hulder.”

“That’s yet to be seen. You consort with Loki, after all.”

“We’re _friends_.”

He snorted. “I need to think,” he said, almost to himself. “I need a plan...”

So did Verity. Fortunately, she’d come up with one.

“I need to pee,” she said. “You know? Urinate?” She nodded at her bound legs. “I can’t really--”

Hulder rolled his eyes. “I trust you have learned the futility of escape attempts by now.”

She nodded, hoping she looked properly meek. 

“Very well,” he said, and drew - oh god, an enormous sword. Verity held her breath, but he only sliced through the leg bindings before sheathing the blade again. He picked her up and dropped her on her feet. She wobbled, leaning against the cave wall, as pins and needles prickled from ankles to knees.

“Um, could you--” she tried, nodding at the belt around her arms, but he only snorted. Verity thought about asking him to turn away, but that might be pushing her luck too. Instead, she faced the cave wall and began groping at the waistband of her leggings, trying to hook her thumbs over it.

There was an embarrassed pause behind her, and then the shuffle of feet moving.

Verity yanked the leggings down her thighs, for verisimilitude, crouched, and slid her hands into the pocket that wasn’t there.

Her fingers hit the smooth glass front of her phone, and she could have cried from sheer relief.

She almost dropped the phone getting it out of her pocket, but she managed to keep a grip on it and get it turned on, putting in her passcode clumsily with the side of one thumb. She’d set it to silent in preparation for going to bed, thankfully, so there were no beeps or clicks to give her away, but she’d have to be fast - Hulder could look over and see the light from the screen at any moment.

The text window with Jessica was still open.

Text from Jessica: You’re right, that’s very weird. My best guess is it’s not a serial killer at all, but someone trying to fake one. Maybe trying to hide a crime with other crimes? Confuse investigators by muddying motive?

Text from Verity: ots rhe [;P emoji three times]cop tell loki

The little dots of a reply in progress showed immediately. Verity blinked back tears of relief. Jessica got the message, she’d--

Text from Jessica: Are you drunk?

 _Fuck_.

Text from Jessica: Oh fuck it’s the cop fuck I don’t have Loki’s fucking cell phone number

Text from Jessica: HOW IS THIS MY LIFE. I’m calling everyone kid hang on

Verity swallowed hard. Okay, okay. She might get out of this yet. Jessica was going to try to call in some kind of cavalry. But it might not be fast enough. Verity took a breath and painstakingly navigated to another conversation.

Text from Verity: Hulder

Text from Loki: WHERE ARE YOU

Text from Verity: in in a cave or fonethung

Text from Verity: do somd fucking magix assgkle

Text from Loki: on my way

Text from Verity: jm sxared pls hur4y

Shit. What if Loki didn’t make it in time? What if-- What if that was the last thing she ever said to him?

Text from Verity: sdy i calked u asshold

Should she say something else? Oh God, what about her mom? Did she have time to text--

“Hey!” Hulder’s hand came down on her shoulder. He yanked her up, spinning her around, and snatched the phone out of her hands. “Give me that!”

He threw it to the ground, then stepped on it when it didn’t shatter into a hundred dramatic pieces.

“Too late,” Verity said. She hiked her leggings back up, feeling way, _way_ too exposed. Her heart was thumping against her ribs. “You really should have wondered where my phone was sooner.”

Hulder sneered, and pressed down with his boot heel until her phone made a sad little crunching sound. “Pathetic, to cling to toys like that. You really are an infant.”

“I’m a _millennial_ , you bag of dicks!”

“You haven’t even reached three decades!”

Verity laughed as scornfully as she could. “Did you really watch all those shows and never understand them?”

Someone else was laughing. Hulder’s angry face paled. The laughter got louder, closer, and suddenly the cave was full of Loki, plural. There were at least a dozen of him, crowded into the small space and filling it with noise and confusion. Hulder drew his sword and ran one of them through, but the illusion dissolved around the blade.

The urge to just collapse onto the floor and cry until the rescue was all over was pretty strong, but Verity fought it. The last thing she wanted was to get accidentally stabbed after everything she’d been through. She pressed back against the cave wall, and then had to bite her tongue to keep in a scream when the wall wrapped its arms around her.

“Shh,” Loki whispered. “Hold still.”

“Missed me!” another Loki called out.

Hulder pivoted toward that one, and the Loki behind her - the real one, obviously - cut the belt off her wrists, then pressed Lorelei’s amulet of invisibility into her hands. His hands appeared as hers vanished, and he pointed emphatically toward the entrance of the cave with the one that wasn’t holding a great big knife.

As though Verity was going to do anything other than get the hell out. She shuffled sideways toward the opening, staying as close to the wall as she could.

“But really, Hulder,” a Loki said. “What were you thinking?”

“Nothing,” another one said. “Obviously.”

“Why implicate me?” the real Loki asked. He had moved in front of Verity and was keeping pace with her, staying between her and Hulder. “Did you think that would hurt me, somehow?”

Three of them started laughing again.

“Or did you want my attention?” another said. Hulder swung at that one, and when it dissolved the one behind him kept talking. “I almost didn’t even bother, you know.”

“My reputation is just terrible already,” a Loki by the entrance said. “Ask anyone.”

“It wasn’t-- That’s not why. I was doing a good thing!” Hulder said. He sliced through another Loki, spinning around before it had even vanished, looking frantically around the cave. “It wasn’t about you.”

“Oh, well, if you say so,” one of the remaining false Lokis said. “I suppose it doesn’t really matter.”

“ _You_ don’t matter,” the real one said.

Hulder closed his eyes. His head tilted, as if he were listening for something, the tip of his sword dipped in defeat. Verity breathed a sigh of relief, then gasped as his eyes snapped back open and he looked right at her. “But she does,” he said, and lunged.

The extra Lokis vanished as the real one pushed Verity aside, stepping into Hulder’s path. He deflected the point of Hulder’s sword with his knife, and it sliced across his side instead of stabbing straight through him.

Hulder grinned, and moved smoothly into another strike, then kicked out at Loki’s wrist when he dodged. The knife went flying. Loki took a step back, starting to draw a sword from wherever it was that he got things, but couldn’t bring it to bear in time to entirely deflect Hulder’s next blow. The blade caught him in the shoulder, and he staggered and cried out.

“No more laughter?” Hulder taunted.

Loki pressed his hand to his shoulder. Blood ran down his arm, dripping onto the ground. “Give it a minute,” he said.

Hulder frowned. “What?”

And then Angela’s sword took Hulder’s hand off.

“Hah!” Loki said. He sat down abruptly. “Oh, Hel. What took you so long?”

Angela shrugged. “Mother. You know what she’s like.”

“None better,” Loki said. 

“My hand,” Hulder croaked. He sank to his knees, clutching his gory wrist.

“Yes, I know,” Loki said, sympathetically. “It’s really lacking in irony. But don’t hold it against my sister - she’s a very practical person.”

Verity stared at him. Sometimes she forgot that he was literally not human, but other times… Wow.

Loki shrugged, winced, and pulled some sealed plastic packages out of nowhere, tossing one to Angela and handing the other to Verity. They had writing in several languages on them, along with helpful pictures to explain what a “pressure dressing” was for.

“My hand!” Hulder said again. And then he screamed as Angela started binding his wound, and Verity turned her back on him and focused on Loki’s shoulder.

“Do you have some scissors? I think I’m going to have to cut your coat off.”

Loki made a sad face, but conjured a pair of tailor’s shears. “Be careful. I think I can probably sew it back together if you don’t mangle it too much.”

“For fuck’s sake, Loki. It’s a coat.” Verity started snipping, not all that carefully. “It’s not, like, _your arm_ I’m cutting off.”

“Oh!” Loki said. “The long arm of the law! Yes, that works. It _is_ ironic.” He grinned, obviously well pleased with himself.

“It’s not funny,” Verity said. She slapped the dressing into place.

Loki’s grin faded. “It’s a little funny?”

“You, you _asshole_!” Verity shouted. “I could have died! You could have died! And all because, what? You were _bored_? Are you going to start creatively murdering people next? What makes you better than him?”

“It wasn’t--” Loki stopped himself, clenching his jaw and sighing through his nose. “It’s not--”

Verity hit him. She knew it couldn’t have hurt much. Certainly not enough to shut him up, but Loki stopped talking and waited patiently while she hammered his uninjured shoulder with her fists.

“You said it wasn’t important,” she said, and hit him in the ribs for variety. He grunted a little at that, and she did it again. “You _said_ that. Is that what I’m worth to you? Amusement?”

“I didn’t say that,” Loki said calmly.

“Don’t _lie_ to me!” Verity screamed. And then she had to stop hitting him, so she could wipe tears off her face.

“I’m not. Verity. You know I’m not lying. I can’t have said that, because I would never say that you’re unimportant, or, or an _amusement_.” He paused. “I might, maybe, possibly have said that clearing my name wasn’t important.”

Verity took a couple of shaky breaths. He was right. He wasn’t lying. He didn’t lie to her.

But he did sometimes skirt the truth. And it was just like assisting Jessica - knowing when someone was lying wasn’t enough, if you didn’t know what question to ask.

Oh, shit. Jessica.

“We’re not done with this,” Verity said. She punched Loki one last time, for emphasis. “But I just remembered that it’s possible that the Avengers are on their way to Vanaheim, and I really need to borrow your phone.”

“Before that, brother, you must fulfil your part of our bargain,” Angela said.

Loki looked at her for a long moment. “Yes,” he said.

Angela nodded.

“What bargain?” Verity demanded.

“Angela wanted the answer to a question in return for her aid,” Loki said flatly. “She got it.”

“What was--”

“I’m not going to tell you.” He handed her his phone. “Call off the calvary, would you? We don’t need any more muscle-bound meatheads crowding up the place.”

“Ms Marvel’s not muscle-bound,” Verity said. “Hey, why do you have Jessica’s number in your contacts?”

“Aren’t you glad I do? You really should memorise it, you know.”

Text from Verity: This is Verity. I’m okay now. You can stop calling people.

Text from Jessica: This isn’t Verity’s phone

Text from Verity: It’s Loki’s phone. Hulder grabbed mine and broke it, but then Loki and his sister came and rescued me.

Text from Jessica: What did my daughter throw up on my jacket last week?

Text from Verity: Donut holes. That I shouldn’t have given her without checking.

Text from Jessica: It’s okay. She’s a born con artist. 

Text from Verity: It was the big eyes!

Text from Jessica: Got her daddy’s looks. Glad you’re safe. Call me the SECOND you get back.

Text from Verity: Sure thing.

Verity looked up. “It’s okay.”

“Excellent,” Loki said. “Well, let’s deliver this miscreant to his colleagues, and then you and I can see about something more relaxing. Perhaps a sailing trip? There are some lovely lakes on the east continent.”

“No,” Angela said.

“You weren’t invited,” Loki said, and then his eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, no?”

“Mother wants to see Verity,” Angela said. “She made a deal with me.”

Loki stiffened. “Well, sister, perhaps we can talk about--”

“No,” Angela said, and held his gaze. “Fight me if you will, brother. But I must fulfil this bargain, as I fulfilled yours. I am who I am.”

“Oh, me too,” Loki said, bowing gracefully, and when he straightened he was holding two daggers, glittering with green sparks. “Verity, run.”

“Whoa,” Verity said, as Angela drew her sword. “Wait, wait, don’t fight! I’ll go see your mom. I mean… Angela, does she plan to hurt me?”

“She promises safe passage,” Angela said. Her sword was steady. “She says she wishes to congratulate the woman who found out the murderer.”

“ _Verity_ ,” Loki said. “You don’t understand. My mother is-- she’s got something up her sleeve! This is definitely some kind of trick, and until we know what it is, you shouldn’t--”

“ _You_ shouldn’t lecture me on tricks,” Verity said, and glared at him until he looked away. “Angela. Let’s go.”

“Obviously, I’m coming too.”

“You weren’t invited,” Angela said, and pulled something white and glowing out of her belt pouch. Verity felt magic clutch at her, and had just time to see Loki’s face go pale before they disappeared.

* * *

They rematerialised in the courtyard of a giant citadel, because Freyja was holding court in one of the ruins of Vanaheim. Verity could understand some of Loki’s disbelief that the Vanir had abandoned these constructions. The throne room alone was about the size of Grand Central Station, vaulted like a cathedral in grey stone.

There was a huge crowd gathered to greet Freyja - many more people than could have fit in the one village Verity had seen. Angela pushed through them with no concern, and those who might have been inclined to push back fell away when Freyja raised her arm and called, “Well met, daughter!”

“Mother,” Angela said, and stepped so that Verity was suddenly standing beside her, not just following meekly along. “As bargained, I bring to you Verity Willis, a wise woman of Midgard.”

Aw. Angela thought that was true.

Freyja smiled at Verity, and Verity’s hair rose along her spine. Freyja was tall and icy-blonde, and there was absolutely no friendliness in her eyes. “Vanir! I beg your pardon and request your absence, for I must speak alone with this daughter of Midgard.” Her voice dropped, so that only Verity and Angela could hear it. “I’ve so much to say to my son’s companion.” 

It was just a few words, and they were relatively mild, but the tone in which they were delivered made Verity’s flesh creep. Freyja wasn’t like Loki, or his brother, or Sigurd, or Lorelei. They’d all lived on Midgard long enough that they’d picked up the knack of seeming human, unless they chose not to. Freyja was a goddess, and didn’t choose to appear as anything else. Her presence had an almost tangible force, and that force wanted Verity on her knees or on her face, grovelling before the power of Asgard’s queen.

The throne room was almost empty now. Angela looked at Verity for a long moment, and began to turn away.

“Angela,” Verity said hastily. “If you stay with me until the audience is done, I’ll give you. Um. My earrings.” Was that an insulting offer? They weren’t even real silver - just little silver-plated leaf studs that she’d bought because they went with her tattoos. 

“I accept,” Angela said, promptly coming back to her side.

Freyja arched a pale eyebrow. “As you will, daughter,” she said. Her eyes rested on Verity. “So. You caught the murderer.”

“Yes,” Verity said. Yes, ma’am? Yes, your majesty? What was the proper form of address? Freyja hadn’t given her any title, so maybe it was better to be rude than clueless. “Actually, Loki and Angela caught him. I just figured out who he was.”

“Ah,” Freyja said, and tapped her fingers against the stone arm of her chair. “Do you often allow others to do the bloodier work?”

Verity blinked. “I’m not really trained for it.”

“Then perhaps you should avoid the field?” Freyja leaned forward, suddenly motherly. “Mortals are so fragile.”

“Yeah,” Verity said. “I just had a pretty good reminder of that.” She rubbed self-consciously at her chest, where an enormous bruise was developing, thanks to Hulder’s great big knee. She probably had bruises all over her face and neck, too. “Thanks for your concern.”

Freyja’s voice acquired an extra layer of ice. “You don’t sound particularly grateful.”

Oh, what the hell. “I’m not,” Verity said bluntly. “I’ve been awake all day and night, apart from the bits where I was choked out and unconscious. I haven’t had a shower in days, I got beaten up by a giant asshole, I had a fight with my best friend, and now you’ve hauled me here to do what? Tell me I’m weak? I knew that already. What is it you actually want?” 

Freyja looked directly at her. “I want you to stay away from my son.”

“Actually, you don’t,” Verity said. “That was a straight-up lie. Are you testing me? Is this a test?”

Freyja leaned back in her throne and said nothing.

“Wow,” Verity said. “Okay, lady. You do you.”

“You should be more afraid of the gods, mortal.”

True, but Verity couldn’t quite smother a laugh. “I definitely should. But Victor Von Doom owes me a favor, I hang out _all the time_ with interplanetary con-men and mercenaries, and I survived the actual end of the universe. More than one universe. Reading a novel used to be the worst thing I could imagine, but now…” She shrugged. “I care about Loki. You can’t scare me away. I’m not sure anyone can.”

“Loki can,” Freyja said, sounding very tired. “Eventually, he probably will. It is his nature. We are not _like_ you, Verity Willis. You mortals are so very changeable. You become a dozen people over the brief span of your mayfly lives. It is exhausting. If he tires of you, he will make certain that you run.”

That was true, but… “Loki’s been at least four people since our first meeting.”

“Whatever the form, Loki is always Loki,” Freyja said, as if it were a curse.

“Wait,” Verity said, and felt the revelation explode behind her eyes. “Not necessarily. Loki changed when he was a kid. He’s _capable_ of change. You said ‘probably’ and ‘if,’ not ‘certainly’ and ‘when.’ Stories change. Stories _are_ change.”

Freyja’s eyes glittered.

“And you… Do you _want_ Loki’s changes to stick? Oh my god, you’re trying to see if I’m a good role model! Like Loki’s asking if he can come to my sleepover and you have to make sure I’m not a bad influence! You are, aren’t you?”

“I will neither confirm nor deny your suspicions, Verity Willis.” Freyja leaned forward. “But consider this. You are mortal. You will die, perhaps tomorrow, perhaps in sixty or seventy of your Midgard years. This doubtless seems like a long time to you, but to us - to my children - it is but a miserly portion of a vast hoard. Unfortunately, the depth of our feelings has little to do with the longevity of our companions. If Loki still cares for you when you are taken from him, you will be mourned, and the mourning will be terrible, and it will last much, much longer than your life.”

It was all true. Verity swallowed hard. “I get it,” she said.

“Really? I doubt you are capable of even imagining a grief that lasts for centuries - or the disasters my tempestuous son might precipitate in his bereavement.” Freyja tapped her long finger against her chin. “Your bravado is entertaining, I suppose. But it will die with you, and Loki will pay the price of it. Does _that_ scare you?”

Verity’s throat was burning. She locked her hands behind her back to stop their shaking and kept her mouth shut.

Freyja looked satisfied.

“I did not know you regarded mortal timespans so,” Angela said. She’d been so quiet Verity had almost forgotten her presence, but her voice echoed through the high-ceilinged hall.

Freyja actually flinched. “Your situation is a different matter,” she said. “I will find a solution.”

There was something going on there, but Verity was concentrating on not crying. A little worm of doubt had wriggled into her brain, as Freyja had doubtless intended. Was she being selfish? Would it be better to cut ties with Loki, or at least step back a little?

No. No, that was Freyja’s trickery. She _liked_ Loki, and he liked her, and everyone else could just butt out, queen and mother and goddess alike. 

“Well,” Freyja said. “I think you have done quite enough on Vanaheim, Verity Willis. I will send you back where you belong, and long may you stay there.” She raised her hand, sparking with white light. Verity braced herself.

“Mother,” Angela said, tone straying towards disapproval. “Verity has done Vanaheim a great service. It is not a fair trade to send her home with no acknowledgement or reward.”

Freyja paused. “Aldrif--”

“Angela, Mother.”

Freyja sighed. “Would this please you, daughter?”

“It would.”

Freyja lowered her hand and glared at Verity. Verity lifted her chin and glared back. 

“Very well,” Freyja said, and smiled at her daughter. The smile looked genuine, in a way the glare hadn’t. “For your sake, my Angela, and because you are, after all, correct. Call in the Vanir.”

* * *

The Vanir came in a lot faster than they’d left, either because they were curious or because waiting outside was boring. Freyja had placed Verity beside her throne, facing the throng, so that she had to stand there and feel everyone’s eyes on her. Verity gritted her teeth, plastered on a smile, and watched for a familiar form in green and gold.

He wasn’t there.

Freyja waited, a long leisurely moment, and then stood to stand beside Verity.

The Vanir murmured, the rustle of voices growing as Freyja placed her hand on Verity’s shoulder.

“Hear me, Vanir” she said, and her voice was clear throughout the chamber. “Be it known that in return for her valiant deeds, the Midgardian Verity Willis, henceforth deemed Truth-Seer, shall have free passage and warm welcome throughout Vanaheim. An she harm none and it harm ye not, feed her, shelter her, and protect her, for she is a friend and ally to our people.” Freyja tightened her grip on Verity’s shoulder and leaned in, smiling beatifically. “Now get out,” she said, voice low.

“My pleasure,” Verity said, through her own forced smile. There was a commotion at the back of the room as the Vanir jumped and dodged, and she had a good idea of the cause.

The fox hurtled through the last ranks of the massed people, bared its teeth at Angela, and shimmered into Loki, kneeling, head bowed. “Mother--” he began.

Freyja let Verity go. “Take her. We’re done.”

Loki raised his head. There was nothing humble about the look in his eyes. “And have you nothing to say to me?”

Verity held her breath.

“No,” Freyja said, cool and thoughtful. “Not at this time.” She looked away from them, to the people waiting. “Elud of Vanaheim, what petition do you make?”

Loki bounced to his feet, grabbed Verity by the wrist, and hustled her out.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

Verity grimaced. “I want to go home.”

“Well, I thought we could--”

“No, Loki! No more bright ideas!” Tears were prickling at the back of her eyes again. “I want to go _home_.”

To her immense relief, he nodded. “We’ll have to travel a little way to get to a proper portal point,” he said. “Do you want to ride the unicorn?”

“No,” Verity said, and wrenched her arm free. “I think I’d rather walk.”

They walked. Vanaheim was still blissfully beautiful, its warm breezes still scented with flowers and sweet, growing things, its fields still green. It wasn’t nearly as relaxing as it could have been.

“I’m sorry,” Loki said, after a long while. “I didn’t know she’d be here.”

It was true. Whenever he apologized to her he meant it. That didn’t always help. 

“If you didn’t care about clearing your name - which, by the way, is a stupid attitude - why did you try to do it? Why drag me out here?”

He avoided her eyes. “I thought it would be fun.”

Verity stopped. “So, yeah, that sounds a lot like you wanted me to entertain you.”

“I didn’t want you to entertain me,” Loki said. “I wanted your _company_. There was the whole business with the Sorcerer Supreme, and then Ron’s murder case and that stupid election, and then you started classes and working with Jessica Jones. And that’s good! I’m glad that makes you happy! I want you to be happy! But I never see you anymore and--”

Verity blinked. “You miss me.”

Loki inspected his nails. “Perhaps.”

“Idiot,” Verity said, and smacked his shoulder. She was feeling much more cheerful. “Why didn’t you just say that? I miss you too.”

“Oh,” Loki said. “Well. All right. So I used the murders as an excuse to take you away for a while. I thought it would be a nice break. We’d go glamping in idyllic surrounds while we reconnected and refreshed!” 

Verity thought this revealed a lot about Loki’s addiction to lifestyle blogs and also a lot about how skewed your world-view had to be to think “dramatic murders” could be any part of a vacation. 

“I guess you couldn’t expect me to be kidnapped,” she allowed.

“Or Hulder to stab me. Or my _mother_.” He shuddered, and it wasn’t entirely feigned.

“Yeah,” Verity said. “I didn’t think that talking to your mom would be the scariest thing on that list, and yet...”

“What did she say to you?”

“What question did Angela ask?”

“Hah,” Loki said, and rubbed his stubbled chin. “Are we… good?”

“ _Mostly_ good,” Verity said. “But next time you want to have a weekend away, just say that. We’ll go apple-picking upstate or something.” On second thought, probably not apple-picking. She’d had enough of rural life for a while. “Maybe we can schedule a weekly get together or something. Arrange time for each other.”

Loki smiled winningly and hid his hands behind his back. “That sounds lovely. Now, before I take you home, I got you a surprise.”

Verity frowned. “Am I going to like this surprise?”

Loki waggled his eyebrows. “You’ll like it. Close your eyes.”

It was true, so she did, against all good sense. She felt Loki step closer, then his hands in her hair, and as he drew them away, a weight that hadn’t been there before, and something cool against her forehead.

“Let me conjure a mirror,” he muttered. “There. Now, take a look.”

Verity opened her eyes and looked at her reflection. She was wearing a… What was it? A mesh of thin silver chains, with loops that draped down over her hair that had tiny, sparkling green crystals hanging from them. It was like something out of a fantasy movie, or a Halloween costume, except that it looked and felt totally real - _true_ \- in a way those things never did. It was a circlet, or a diadem, or… “You got me a cool hat.”

“You earned it,” Loki said. He grinned. “It suits you. And maybe some day you’ll upgrade to some nifty little antlers, or _enormous_ wings or something.”

“No, this is perfect.” Verity tilted her head and looked at herself in profile. The little crystals winked in the light. “I love it. How much longer to the portal point?”

“Another league or two,” Loki said.

“How long is-- Never mind.” Verity adjusted her cool hat and smiled in the mirror. “If it’s okay, I’d like to ride the unicorn.”

Loki beamed.

* * *

“I can’t make it to wine-and-whine tomorrow,” Loki said, his voice sounding tinny through the phone speaker. There were weird pew-pew noises in the background which Verity decided not to ask about. “Is Thursday okay?”

Verity pulled her planner from her bag and flipped through the pages. “Yeah, Thursday’s fine. Seven?”

“Yes! I’m feeling like Mexican. Well, mostly I’m feeling like margaritas, but you can’t have margaritas without tacos. It’s the law.”

“Remember I’m a no on cilantro,” Verity warned. 

Loki’s response was lost in an explosion.

“Uh, everything okay over there?”

“Mild setback,” Loki said airily. “Nothing to worry about. Anyway, while I have you on the line-”

“Hang on, that’s my doorbell.” Verity picked up the phone and peered through the peephole.

A tall redhead stared impassively back at her.

“Uh. It’s your sister.”

“Which one?”

“Well, not the _baby_ , obviously. I’ve got to go.” Verity hung up, opened the door, and smiled weakly at Angela. “Hi.”

Angela was wearing a crisp white cotton shirt tucked into black skinny jeans and a red leather jacket. Verity suspected that she’d left piles of swooning women in her wake. “Hello, Verity Willis,” she said. “I propose a bargain.”

“Go ahead,” Verity said cautiously.

“In return for your company while we eat ice cream, I will purchase the ice cream.”

“Huh.” Verity thought it through. Angela’s stance didn’t change, but Verity had the impression that if she hadn’t been so highly trained, she’d be fidgeting. “That’s not a fair trade.”

Angela frowned.

“Because I’d be getting the pleasure of your company _and_ ice cream, and you’d only be getting my company. Why don’t we each pay for our own ice cream, and trade the company?”

Angela’s lips twitched. “That is acceptable.”

Verity grabbed her scarf and her keys. “I appreciate you standing up for me to Freyja last week.”

“No debt was incurred,” Angela said quickly, which Verity decided was probably how people in Heven said “you’re welcome”.

They started down the hall. Angela’s boots, which matched the deep scarlet of her jacket, clicked firmly against the wooden floor. She’d definitely been the cause of at least a dozen crushes that morning. “Hey, so, that question you asked Loki--”

“That information would cost you dearly,” Angela said, suddenly somehow a lot taller. “I advise against its purchase.”

“Okay,” Verity said. “So, chocolate or vanilla?”

“My beloved and I have less than seven years to live,” Angela said.

It was true. Verity stopped dead in the hall. Angela glanced at her, and kept walking, and after a second Verity scrambled to catch up.

“My mother is trying to find a solution, but I am not sure she can,” Angela said. “I do not fear dying. I have faced death many times, and never cared, except that death would mean defeat. I would trade eternity for a day with Sera, and count it a fair bargain. But we do not know _how_ to be mortal. I asked Loki, and she said--”

“Oh. That’s why she introduced us.”

“Yes.”

Verity thought about the Asgardians she knew: Freyja, cold and angry on her throne; Sigurd’s casual disregard for consequences; Lorelei’s impatient dismissal of plans gone awry. And Freyja’s concern for her children, and Sigurd’s irrepressible sense of humour, and Lorelei’s love of beauty. 

She thought about Loki: vicious and charming; restless and laughing; thoughtful and careless. And changing.

“I don’t think it’s that different,” she told Angela. “We’re just all doing our best to live the lives we think we should live. To be the people we think we should be.”

“Ah,” Angela said, and linked her arm through Verity’s. “That, I believe I can do.”

**Author's Note:**

> Loki really did turn into a unicorn in canon one time, but the rest of this is pretty much just us entertaining ourselves, and hopefully you. We don’t have any reason to think the Vanir are super into Midgardian streaming content - but we don’t know that they _aren’t_.


End file.
